Digs through whole rows of kindred and acquaintance, The following comparison, applied to time, is happily imagined. Yet treads more foft than e'er did midnight thief, Who flides his hand under the mifer's pillow, And carries off his prize The hand of Shakspeare could not poffibly have gone higher, or have touched a fituation wit 'greater nicety. Few fimiles can exceed the following for elegant fimplicity. Among the various tenants of thị grave, he enumerates -The long-demurring maid, Whofe lonely unappropriated sweets Smil'd, like yon knot of cowflips on the cliff, Not to be come at by the willing hand. Another fimile, near the end of the poem, where he mentions the averfion even of the guid», death, beginning, So bave 1 feen upon a fummer's eve, is natural and striking. In Blair, it is difficult to discover any material traces of imitation, or even to conjecture who w his favourites among the poets of his country. His style of compofition is his own, and his verit tion peculiar to himself. He undoubtedly, however, poffeffed a taste for our elder poets, the sient we'ls of English undefiled, from whom he probably learned the energy, character, and truth of co pofition, and the genuine language of verse; particularly the frequent use of compound epite which are the life of a language, and in which our own is far from being deficient. Blair, defcribing the death of a good man, fays: By unperceiv'd degrees he wears away, The last line is evidently borrowed from Quarles; a writer of true poetical genius, and of am plary virtue, unjustly neglected. Brave minds oppreft, should (in difpight of fate) Looke greatest (like the funne) in lowest flate.-Job. Milt. The teftimonies to the merits of Blair are few, when compared with his deferts. The Grave, they it is written in a flyle that might well delight the learned, and deserve the attention of the white of verse, yet has never been mentioned, till very lately, in any critical work, nor imitated in any po tical compofition. "The Tafk" of Cowper, an ingenious and truly original performance, referbe it only in the fingular combination of pathetic description, comic humour, and serious remonftrato Its popularity, however, must be allowed as an unquestionable authority in its favour; for by judgment of the common, unprejudiced, unpedantic reader, the merit of every poetical compelz must be ultimately decided. Mr. Pinkerton, the learned and ingenious editor of the "Ancient Scottish Poems, &c."wash first who celebrated the merits of Blair, and fubjected The Grave to the examination of criticie which, though fomewhat too general and indiscriminate, merits attention. "I know not, fays Mr. Pinkerton," that he wrote any thing else; but The Grave is with thousand common poems. The language is such as Shakspeare would have used; yet he no wh imitates Shakspeare, or uses any expreffion of his. It is frugal and chafte; yet, upon occafion, highr poetical, without any appearance of research. It is unquestionably the best piece of blank verk vi have, fave those of Milton.", THE GRAVE. The Houfe appointed for all Living.-JOB. WHILST fome affect the fun, and fome the fhade, | Long lafh'd by the rude winds. Some rift half down Some flee the city, fome the hermitage; thing! -The grave, dread 10 Men fhiver when thou'rt nam'd: Nature appall'd, Dark as was chaos, ere the infant fun The fickly taper, By glimm'ring through thy low-brow'd mifty vaults, (Furr'd round with mouldy damps, and ropy flime) Lets fall a fupernumerary horror, 20 And only ferves to make thy night more irkfome. Well do I know thee by thy trufty yew, Cheerlefs, unfocial plant; that loves to dwell 'Midft skulls and coffins, epitaphs, and worms: Where light-heel'd ghofts, and vifionary shades, Beneath the wan cold moon (as fame reports) Embody'd, thick, perform their myftic rounds. No other merriment, dull tree, is thine. See yonder hallow'd fane;-the pious work And tatter'd coats of arms, fend back the found 40 In grim array the grifly spectres rife, VARIATIONS. Ver. 22. Methinks I know thee, &c. Their branchlefs trunks; others fo thin a-top, here: SK Wild fhrieks have iffued from the hollow tombs: Dead men have come again, and walk'd about; And the great bell has toll'd, unrung, untouch'd. (Such tales their cheer at wake or goffoping, When it draws near to witching time of night.) Oft, in the lone church-yard at night I've feen, By glimpse of moon-fhine chequering through the trees, 60 The school boy with his fatchel in his hand, That walks at dead of night, or takes his ftand 70 The new-made widow, too, I've fometimes'fpy'd, Sad fight! flow moving o'er the proftrate dead: Liftlefs, fhe crawls along in doleful black, Whilft burfts of forrow gufh from either eye, Faft falling down her now untafted cheek. Prone on the lowly grave of the dear man She drops; whilft bufy meddling memory, In barbarous fucceffion musters up The past endearments of their fofter hours, Tenacious of its theme. Still, ftill the thinks She fees him, and, indulging the fond thought, Clings yet more clofely to the fenfelefs turf, Nor heeds the paffenger who looks that way. 80 Invidious grave-how doft thou rend in funder I owe thee much. Thou hat deferv'd from me, VARIATIONS. 90 69. Of horrid apparition, strait and tall. 86. Invidious grave! thou feparat'ft chief friends That love has bound, &c. 130 140 Where are the mighty thunderbolts of war? The Roman Cæfars, and the Grecian chiefs, The boat of story? Where the hot-brain'd youth; Who the tiara at his pleasure tore From kings of all the then discover'd globe; And cry'd, forfooth, because his arm was hamper'd, And had not room enough to do its work? Alas! how flim, difhonourably flim, And cram'd into a space we blufh to name! Proud royalty! how alter'd in thy looks! How blank thy features, and how wan thy hue! Son of the morning! whither art thou gone! Where haft thou hid thy many-fpangled head, And the majestic menace of thine eyes Feit from afar? Pliant and powerless now Like new-born infant wound up in his swathes, Or victim tumbled flat upon his back, That throbs beneath the facrificer's knife. Mute, muft thou bear the ftrife of little tongues, And coward infults of the bafe-born crowd; That grudge a privilege thou never hadft, But only hop'd for in the peaceful grave, Of being unmolefted and alone. Arabia's gums and odoriferous drugs, And honours by the herald duly paid In mode and form, ev'n to a very fcruple; Oh cruel irony! thefe come too late; And only mock, whom they were meant to honour. Surely there's not a dungeon-flave that's bury'd In the high-way, unfhrouded and uncoffin'd, But lies as foft, and fleeps as found as he. Sorry pre-eminence of high defcent, Above the bafer born, to rot in ftate. 150 on, But fee! the well-plumed herfe comes nodding Stately and flow; and properly attended By the whole fable tribe, that painful watch By letting out their perfons by the hour, Proud lineage, now how little thou appear Abfurd to think to over-reach the grave, And from the wreck of names to rescue ours The beft concerted fchemes men lay for famt Die faft away: only themselves die faster. The far-fam'd fculptor, and the laurell❜d bard, These bold infurancers of deathlefs fame, Supply their little feeble aids in vain. The tapering pyramid, th' Egyptian's pride, And wonder of the world, whofe fpiky top Has wounded the thick cloud, and long outliv The angry fhaking of the winter's ftorm; Yet fpent at laft by th' injuries of heaven, Shatter'd with age, and furrow'd o'er with yat The mystic cone with hieroglyphics crufted, At once gives way. Oh! lamentable sight: The labour of whole ages lumbers down, A hideous and mif-fhapen length of ruins Sepulchral columns wrestle, but in vain, With all-fubduing time: her cank'ring hand With calm delib'rate malice wafteth them: Worn on the edge of days the brafs confumes, The bufto moulders, and the deep-cut marble, Unfteady to the fleel, give up its charge. Ambition, half convicted of her folly, Hangs down the head, and reddens at the tale. Here all the mighty troublers of the earth, Who fwam to fov'reign rule through feas of bio Th' oppreffive, sturdy, man-deftroying villas Who ravag'd kingdoms, and laid empires wilt, And in a cruel wantonnefs of power Thinn'd states of half their people, and gave To want the reft; now, like a ftorm that's ip Lie hufh'd, and meanly fneak behind the covent Vain thought to hide them from the gen'ralis That haunts and doggs them like an injur`d ghn Implacable. Here too the petty tyrant, Whofe fcant domains geographer ne'er notic And, well for neighbouring grounds, of arm asf VARIATIONS. 179. Why hide the punished, for fake of which, The lick man's door, and live upon the dead, 160 | 195. Dodder'd with age, &c. Vho fix'd his iron talons on the poor, And gripp'd them like fome lordly beaft of prey; Deaf to the forceful cries of gnawing hunger, nd piteous plaintive voice of mifery; As if a flave was not a fhred of nature, f the fame common nature with his lord); How tame and humble, like a child that's whipp'd, hakes hands with cust, and calls the worm his kinfman; Just like a child that brawl'd itself to rest, 280 To vaunt of nerves of thine? what means the or pleads his rank and birthright. Under ground The ftar-furveying fage close to his eye 231 forofsly familiar, fide by fide confume. When self-esteem, or others adulation, Tould cunningly perfuade us we were fomething bove the common level of our kind, [ry, 240 he grave gainfays the smooth complexion'd flatt'nd with blunt truth acquaints us what we are. Beauty-thou pretty play-thing, dear deceit, What steals fo foftly o'er the stripling's heart, And gives it a new pulfe, unknown before, he grave difcredits thee: thy charms expung'd, hy rofes faded, and thy lilies foil'd, What haft thou more to boast of? Will thy lovers lock round thee now, to gaze and do thee homage? Methinks I fee thee with thy head low laid, 247 improve thofe charms, and keep them in repair, For which the spoiler thanks thee not. Foul feeder, Coarfe fare and carrion please thee full as well, And leave as keen a relish on the fenfe. Look how the fair one weeps-the conscious tears Stand thick as dew-drops on the bells of flow'rs: Honeft effufion! the fwoll'n heart in vain Works hard to put a glofs on its diftrefs. 260 Strength too-thou furly, and lefs gentle boast See how he tugs for life, and lays about him, It was his laft.-See how the great Goliah, 240. Net in MS. VARIATIONS. Applies the fight-invigorating tube; space, Marks well the courfes of the far-feen orbs That roll with regular confufion there, 290 In ecftacy of thought. But ah! proud man, Here the tongue-warrior lies difabled now, This dumb defpair, and drooping of the head? 300 311 In ambush lay about thy flowing tongue; Here the great masters of the healing-art, 320 To his own carcafe; now lies cheaply lodg'd, By clam'rous appetites no longer teas'd, Nor tedious bills of charges and repairs. But ah! where are his rents, his comings-in? Ay! now you've made the rich man poor indeed, Robb'd of his gods, what has he left behind? Oh curfed luft of gold; when for thy fake, 'The fool throws up his int'reft in both worlds: 349 Firft ftarv'd in this, then damn'd in that to come. How fhocking muft thy fummons bè, O death! To him that is at eafe in his poffeffions; Who counting on long years of pleasure here, Is quite unfurnish'd for that world to come? In that dread moment, how the frantic foul Raves round the walls of her clay tenement, Runs to each avenue, and fhrieks for help, But fhrieks in vain !-How wifhfully fhe looks On all the's leaving, now no longer her's! A little longer, yet a little longer, Oh! might the ftay, to wash away her stains, And fit her for her paffage.-Mournful fight! Her very eyes weep blood ;-and every groan She heaves is big with horror.But the foe, Like a staunch murd'rer, fteady to his purpose, Pursues her close through every lane of life, Nor miffes once the track, but preffes on; Till forc'd at laft to the tremendous verge, At once the finks to everlasting ruin. 360 370 Sure 'tis a ferious thing to die! my foul, What a strange moment must it be, when near Thy journey's end, thou haft the gulf in view! That awful gulf, no mortal e'er repafs'd To tell what's doing on the other side. Nature runs back, and fhudders at the fight, And every life-ftring bleeds at thoughts of parting; For part they must: body and foul must part; Fond couple; link'd more clofe than wedded pair. This wings its way to its almighty fource, The witness of its actions, now its judge; That drops into the dark and noisome grave, Like a difabled pitcher of no use. 380 [wretch Reel over his full bowl, and, when 'tis drain'd, The ill pleas'd gueft to fit out his full time, 400 And suffer'd to speak out, tells ev'ry man; Duty requires we calmly wait the fummons, Tell us, ye dead; will none of you, in py To thofe you left behind, disclofe the fecret! Oh! that fome courteous ghoft would blab it What 'tis you are, and we must shortly be I've heard, that fouls departed, have fometime Forewarn'd men of their death :-Twa ba done To knock, and give the alarm.— But what m And there his pamper'd lord.-The cup goes |