The brave, the wise, the virtuous, and the fair,
May view themselves in fadeless colours there.

Through every polish'd piece correctness flows,
Yet each bright page with sprightly fancy glows;
Oh! happy elegance, where thus are join'd
A solid judgment, and a wit refin'd!

Here injur'd Phocyas and Eudocia claim
A lasting pity, and a lasting fame:

Thy heroine's softer virtues charm the sight,
And fill our souls with ravishing delight.
Exalted love and dauntless courage meet,
To make thy hero's character complete.
This finish'd piece the noblest pens commend,
And e'en the critics are the poet's friend.

Led on by thee, those flowery paths I view,
For ever lovely, and for ever new,
Where all the Graces with joint force engage
To stem th' impetuous follies of the age:
Virtue, there deck'd in ever-blooming charms,
With such resistless rays of beauty warms,
That Vice, abash'd, confounded, skulks away,
As night retires at dawn of rosy day.

Struck with his guilt, the hardy atheist dreads
Approaching Fate, and trembles as he reads:
Vanquish'd by Reason, yet asham'd to fly,
He dares not own a God, nor yet deny:
Convinc'd, though late, forgiveness he implores;
Shrinks from the jaws of Hell, and Heaven adores.
Hither the wild, the frolic, and the gay,
Asthoughtless thro' their wanton rounds they stray,
Compell'd by Fame, repair with curious eye,
And their own various forms with wonder spy.
The censor so polite, so kindly true,
They see their faults, and sicken at the view.
Hence trifling Damon ceases to be vain;
And Cloe scorns to give her lover pain:
Strephon is true, who ne'er was true before;
And Celia bids him love, but not adore.

Though Addison and Steele the honour claim,
Here to stand foremost on the list of fame;
Yet still the traces of thy hand we see,
Some of the brightest thoughts are due to thee.
While then for those illustrious bards we mourn,
The Muse shall visit thy distinguish'd urn;
With copious tears bedew the sacred ground,
And plant the never-fading bay around.

Here through the gloom, aspiring bards, explore
These awful relics, and be vain no more:
Learning, and Wit, and Fame itself must die;
Virtue alone can, towering, reach the sky.
This crown'd his life. Admire not, Heaven in view,
He to the glorious prize with transport flew.
A fate so blest should check our streaming woe,
He reigns above, his works survive below.

J. BUNCE,

Late of Trinity Hall, Cambridge.

IN MEMORIAM VIRI CLARISSIMI
JOHANNIS HUGHES.

OCCIDIT beu nimium fato sublatus acerbo,
Occidit Aonidûm decus ille dolorque sororum!
Quæ te, magne, tuis rapuit sors aspera, vates?
Quo fugis, ah! nostras nunquam rediturus in oras!
En! tibi ferali crinem cinxêre cupresso,

Et circum cineres Parnassia numina lugent.
Ipsa tuam flet adhuc, flebitque Britannia mortem:
Te patria exposcit, fœcundaque criminis ætas.
Non tua te pietas, non candida vita, nec artes
Ingenuæ, duro juvenem eripuêre sepulchro!

Sed tibi mors longos nequicquam inviderit annos,
Dum maneant clare monumenta perennia famæ,
Dircæusque volet superas suus ales in auras.
Spernis trita sonans plectrum', tenuisque camœnæ
Haud petis auxilium: terris te plena relictis
Mens rapit impavidum, colique per ardua ducit.
Jam procul ex oculis gentes & regna recedunt;
Jam tellus perit, & punctum vix cernitur orbis.
At vos, immensi placidissima lumina mundi,
Sol, Luna, æterno meritas O! pangite laudes
Auctori Dominoque; suis concussa tremiscat
Sedibus, & magnum agnoscat Natura Parentem,
Dum vates arcana, parum sententia vulgi
Ut stet sollicitus, sublimi carmine pandit!
Qualis verborum pompa! ut ruit ore profundo
Fervidus, ingenii caleat cum Spiritus ingens!

Nec minor incedis, tragico indignusve cathurno. Dum tuus Arabicos Phocyas ruit acer in hostes, Quis non æquales toto sub pectore flammas Concipit, & simili laudis fervescit amore! O qualis lingue divina potentia! quali Arte trahis faciles animos; seu pectora flecti Dura jubes, & pulchræ acuis virtutis honore; Sive intus placidos Eudocia concitet ignes; Ah nimium, nimium infelix Eudocia! quem non Sors tua sava movet? madidi vectigal ocelli Quis neget? infaustos quis non deploret amores? O semper damnata pati fata aspera virtus! At tibi quis sensus, quæ mens, Eudocia, cum jam Extrahit infixam Phocyas tua flamma sagittam, Securus fati, vitamque ex vulnere fundit? Quis satis ingenium comis miretur Abudæ? Quam piger ad pœnas, miserumque benignus in Exemplar vel Christianis imitabile, mores [hostem! Digni etiam meliore fide! O quam, nube remotâ Erroris, tanti eniteant pietatis honores!

L. DUNCOMBE.

Sed quid ego plura hic laudare nitentia pergam? Tota nitet, pulchro tota ordine fabrica surgit, Et delectamur passim, passimque monemur. E. Coll. Mert. Oxon. Amabilis juvenis, hujus carminis author, Obiit 26 Decem. 1730; anno ætatis 19. -Nox atra caput tristi circumvolat umbrâ.

PROLOGUE TO THE

MEMORY OF MR. HUGHES.

Virg.

SPOKEN BY MR. MILWARD, ON THE REVIVAL OF THE
SIEGE OF DAMASCUS, AT THE THEATRE ROYAL IN
DRURY-LANE, 22 MARCH, 1734-5.

HERE force and fancy, with united charms,
Mingle the sweets of love with war's alarms.
Our author shows, in eastern pomp array'd,
The conquering hero, and the constant maid.
None better knew such noble heights to soar,
Though Phædra, and though Cato, charm'd before.

Rome's mighty grandeur was not more confest,
When great Antonius travell'd through the east,
And crowds of monarchs did each morning wait
With early homage at his palace gate. [meet;
Haste then, bright prince! thy Britain's transport
Haste to her arms, and make her bliss complete!
Whate'er glad news has reach'd her listening ear,
While her long-absent lord provokes her fear,
Her joys are in suspence, her pleasures unsincere.
He comes, thy hero comes! O beauteous isle!
Revive thy genius with a cheerful smile!
Let thy rejoicing sons fresh palms prepare,
To grace the trophies of the finish'd war;
On high be hung the martial sword insheath'd,

The shield with ribbons dress'd, and spear with ivy wreath'd!

Let speaking Paint in various tablets show
Past scenes of battle to the crowd below!
Round this triumphant pile, in rustic dance,
The shouting swains shall hand in hand advance;
The wealthy farmer from his toils shall cease;
The ploughman from the yoke his smoking steers
release,

And join to solemnize the festival of Peace.
No more for want of hands th' unlabour'd field,
Chok'd with rank weeds, a sickly crop shall yield:
Calm Peace returns; behold her shining train!
And fruitful Plenty is restor'd again."—
Apollo ceas'd- The Muses take the sound,
From voice to voice th' harmonious notes rebound,
And echoing lyres transmit the volant fugue around!
Meanwhile the steady bark, with prosperous gales,
Fills the large sheets of her expanded sails,
And gains th' intended port; thick on the strand,
Like swarming bees, th' assembled Britons stand,
And press to see their welcome sovereign land:
At his approach, unruly transport reigns
In every breast, and rapture fires their veins.
A general shout succeeds, as when on high
Exploded thunder rends the vaulted sky.
A short convulsion shakes the solid shore,
And rocks th' adjacent deep, unmov'd before;
Loud acclamations through the valleys ring,
While to Augusta's wall the crowd attend their king.
And now behold a finish'd temple rise,
On lofty pillars climbing to the skies!
Of bulk stupendous, its proud pile it rears,
The gradual product of successive years.
An inner gate, that folds with iron leaves,
The charm'd spectator's entering steps receives,
Where curious works in twisted stems are seen
Of branching foliage, vacuous between.
O'er this a vocal organ, mounted high

8

On marble columns, strikes the wondering eye;
And feeds at once two senses with delight,
Sweet to the ear, and splendid to the sight.
Marble the floor, enrich'd with native stains
Of various dye, and streak'd with azure veins.
Ev'n emulous Art with Nature seems to strive,
And the carv'd figures almost breathe and live;
The painted altar, glorious to behold,

Shines with delightful blue, and dazzling gold.
Here first th' illustrious three, of heavenly race,
Religion, Liberty, and Peace, embrace;

Here joyful crowds their pious thanks express,
For Peace restor'd, and Heaven's indulgence bless.
Auspicious structure! born in happy days,
Whose first employment is the noblest, praise!

The choir of St. Paul's was first opened on the day of thanksgiving for the peace.

[wing.

Been fam'd in verse, and grac'd the poet's song;
The generous name of Montague has long
In verse, himself can happy wonders do,
The best of patrons, and of poets too.
Amid the skilful choir that court his ear,
If he vouchsafe these ruder lays to hear,
His bright example, while to him I sing,
Shall raise my feeble flight, and mount me on the
On Albion's eastern coast, an ancient town?
O'erlooks the sea, to mariners well known;
Where the swift Stourus' ends his snaky train,
And pays his watery tribute to the main :
Stourus, whose stream, prolific as it glides,
Two fertile counties.in its course divides,
And rolls to seaward with a lover's pace:
There beauteous Orwell meets his fond embrace;
They mix their amorous streams, the briny tide
Receives them join'd; their crooked shores provide
A spacious bay within, for anchor'd ships to ride.
Here, on the margin of the rolling flood,
Divinely fair, like sea-born Venus, stood
Britannia's Genius, in a robe array'd
Of broider'd arms, and heraldry display'd:
A crown of cities charg'd her graceful brows;
In waving curls her hair luxuriant flows;
Celestial glories in her eyes are seen;
Her stature tall, majestic is her mien.
With such a presence, through th' adoring skies
Shines the great parent of the deities;
Such towery honours on her temples rise,
When, drawn by lions, she proceeds in state;
Trains of attendant-gods around her chariot wait;
The mother-goddess, with superior grace,
Surveys, and numbers o'er her bright immortal race.
While thus the lovely Genius hovers o'er
The water's brink, and from the sandy shore

9 Harwich.

' The river Stoure, that runs between Suffolk and Essex.

Beholds th' alternate billows fall and rise
(By turns they sink below, by turns they mount the
"And must," she said-
[skies):

Then paus'd, and drew a sigh of anxious love;
"Must my dear lord this faithless ocean prove?
Escap'd the chance of war, and fraud of foes,
Wilt thou to warring waves thy sacred life expose?
Why am I thus divided by the sea

From all the world, and all the world in thee?
Could sighs and tears the rage of tempests bind,
With tears I'd bribe the seas, with sighs the wind:
Soft-sighing gales thy canvas should inspire;
But hence, ye boisterous storms! far hence retire
To inland woods; there your mad powers appease,
And scour the dusty plains, or strip the forest trees;
Or lodg'd in hollow rocks profoundly sleep,
And rest from the loud labours of the deep!
Why should I fear?-

If heroes be the care

Of Heaven above, and Heaven inclines to prayer,
Thou sail'st secure; my sons with lifted eyes,
And pious vows, for thee have gain'd the skies.
Come then, my much-lov'd lord! No more th'
alarms

Of wasteful war require thee from my arms.
Thy sword gives plenteous peace; but,without thee,
Peace has no charms, and plenty 's poverty:
At length enjoy, for whom you've fought, the queen
Of Islands, bright, majestic, and serene!
Unveil'd from clouds, which did her form disguise,
And hid a thousand beauties from thy eyes.
A thousand treasures unsurvey'd invite
Their lord to various scenes of new delight.
Come, see the dower I brought! My spacious downs,
My numerous counties, and my ancient towns;
Landscapes of rising mountains, shaggy woods,
Green valleys, smiling meadows, silver floods,
And plains with lowing herds enrich'd around,
The hills with flocks, the flocks with fleeces crown'd.
All these with native wealth thy power maintain,
And bloom with blessings of thy easy reign.
Haste, hoist thy sails! and through the foamy brine
Rush to my arms! henceforth be wholly mine;
After nine toilsome years, let slaughter cease,
And flourish now secure, in the soft arts of peace!"
She said; th' entreated winds her accents bore,
And wing'd the message to the Belgic shore.
The pious hero heard, nor could delay
To meet the lovely voice, that summon'd him away;
The lovely voice, whose soft-complaining charms
Before had call'd the succour of his arms,
Nor call'd in vain, when, fir'd with generous rage
T" oppose the fury of a barbarous age,
Like Jove with awful thunder in his hand,
Through storms and fleets at sea, and foes at land,
He urg'd his daring way; before his sight,
On silver wings, bright Glory took her flight,
And left, to guide his course, long shining tracks of
light!

And now once more embark'd, propitious gales
Blow fresh from shore, and fill his hollow sails.
As when the golden god, that rules the day,
Drives down his flaming chariot to the sea,
And leaves the nations here involv'd in night,
To distant regions he transports his light;
So William's rays, by turns, two nations cheer;
And when he sets to them, he rises here.

Forsaken Belgia, ere the ship withdrew, Shed generous tears, and breath'd this soft adieu; "Since empire calls thee, and a glorious throne, Tay people's weighty interests, and thy own;

(Though struggling love would fain persuade thy stay)

Go where thy better fortune leads the way!
Meanwhile my loss, allow me to complain,
And wish-ah, no! that partial wish were vain.
Tho' honour'd Crete had nurs'd the thundering god,
Crete was not always blest with his abode;
Nor was it fit, that William's godlike mind,
For nations born, should be to one confin'd.
This only grant, since I must ask no more,
Revisit once again your native shore!
That hope my sorrows shall beguile; and thou,
My happy rival! wilt that hope allow;
'Tis all th' enjoyment Fate has left me now.
So may'st thou, fair Britannia! ever be
Firm to thy sovereign's love, and his to thee!
While widow'd I"There rising sighs repress'd
Her fainting voice, and stifled in the rest.

Now, while the bounding vessel drives before
The gusty gales, and leaves the lessening shore,
Behold the parting clouds to distance fly,
And golden glories, pouring from on high,
New dress the day, and cheer th' enlighten'd sky!
One shooting beam, like lightning doubly bright,
Darts on the middle main its streaming light.
Lo! William's guardian angel there descends;
To Neptune's court his heavenly message tends;
In arms celestial, how he shines afar,

Like Pallas marching to th' awaken'd war!
His left hand gripes a spacious orb of shield,
With thousand intercepted dangers fill'd,
And deaths of various kind; his right displays
A temper'd blade, that spreads a formidable blaze.
He strikes the waves; th' obsequious waves obey,
And, opening in a gulph, disclose the downward way.
O Muse! by thee conducted down, I dare
The secrets of the watery world declare;
For nothing 'scapes thy view; to thee 'tis given,
To range the space of earth, and seas, and heaven,
Descry a thousand forms, conceal'd from sight,
And in immortal verse to give the visions light.

A rock there lies, in depth of sea profound,
About its clefts, rich beds of pearl abound,
Where sportful Nature, covering her retreat
With flowing waters, holds her secret seat
In woods of coral, intricate she strays,
And wreathes the shells of fish a thousand ways,
And animates the spawn of all her finny race.
Th' unnumber'd species of the fertile tide,
In shoals, around their mighty mother, glide.
From out the rock's wide cavern's deep below,
The rushing ocean rises to its flow;
And, ebbing, here retires; within its sides,
In roomy caves the god of sea resides.
Pillars unhewn, of living stone, bear high
His vaulted courts; in storms the billows fly
O'er th' echoing roof, like thunder through the skies,
And warn the ruler of the floods to rise,

And check the raving winds, and the swoln waves chastise.

Rich spoils, by plundering tempests hither borne,
An universe of wealth, the palace-rooms adorn.
Before its entrance, broken wrecks are seen
In heaps deform'd, a melancholy scene.
But far within, upon a mossy throne,
With washy ooze and samphire overgrown,
The sea-green king his forky sceptre rears;
Awful his aspect, numerous are his years.
A pearly crown circles his brows divine;
His beard and dewy hair shed trickling drops of brine.