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Dorinda

Verses fent to a young Lady with the new edition

of Shakespeare

Verfes on Mrs. Crewe

Rhapfody on Tafte

Fitzpatrick 217

Carlisle 221

Fox 223

Carlisle 215

Elegy written in the Garden of a Friend

Elegy written in a Country Church Yard

Elegy on Captain Cook

Death of Alico

Monody to the Memory of Lady Lyttleton

Mafon 227 Gray 231 Seward 237

Verfes making Part of an Epitaph on the fame

Edwards 249

Lyttleton 251

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XXX

THE

MINSTREL;

O R, THE

PROGRESS OF GENIUS.

XX

A

THE

FIRST BOOK.

H! who can tell how hard it is to climb
The steep where Fame's proud temple fhinesafar !
Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime
Has felt the influence of malignant ftar,
And wag d with Fortune an eternal war!
Check'd by the fcoff of Pride, by Envy's frown,
And Poverty's unconquerable bar,

In life's low vale remote has pined alone,
Then dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown!

II.

And yet, the languor of inglorious days,
Not equally oppreffive is to all.

Him who ne'er liften'd to the voice of praise,
The filence of neglect can ne'er appal.
There are, who, deaf to mad Ambition's call,
Wou'd fhrink to hear th' obftreperous trump of Fame
Supremely bleft if to their portion fall

Health, competence, and peace. Nor higher aim Had HE, whofe fimple tale thefe artless lines pro

elaim.

B

III.

of

yore,

This fapient age difclaims all claffic lore;
Elfe I fhould here in cunning phrafe difplay,
How forth THE MINSTREL fared in days
Right glad of heart, though homely in array;
His waving locks and beard all hoary grey :
And, from his bending fhoulder, decent hung
His harp, the fole companion of his way,
Which to the whiftling wind refponfive rung:
And ever as he went fome merry lay he fung.

IV.

Fret not yourselves, ye filken fons of pride, That a poor wanderer fhould infpire my ftrain, The mufes fortune's fickle smile deride, Nor ever bow the knee in Mammon's fane; Fftheir delights are with the village train, Whom nature's laws engage, and nature's charms They hate the fenfual, and scorn the vain; The parafite their influence never warms, Nor him whofe fordid foul the love of wealth alarms.

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Though richeft hues the peacock's plumes adorn,
Yet horror fereams from his difcordant throat.
Rife, fons of harmony, and hail the morn,
While warbling larks on ruffet pinions float;
Or feek at noon the woodland feene remote,
Where the grey linnets carol from the hill.
O let them ne'er with artificial note,

To please a tyrant, ftrain the little bill,

But fing what heaven infpires, and wander where they will.

VI.

Liberal, not lavih, is kind nature's hand;
Nor was perfection made for man below.
Yet all her fchemes with niceft art are plann'd,
Good counteracting ill, and gladness wo.
With gold and gems if Chilian mountains glow,

If bleak and barren Scotia's hills arife;

There plague and poifon, luft and rapine grow; Here peaceful are the vales, and pure the kies, And freedom fires the foul, and sparkles in the eyes.

VII.

Then grieve not, thou to whom the indulgent Mufe
Vouchiafes a portion of celestial fire;

Nor blame the partial Fates, if they refuse
Th' imperial banquet, and the rich attire.
Know thine own worth and reverence the lyre.
Wilt thou debase the heart which God refin'd;
No; let the heaven-taught foul, to heaven afpire
To fancy, freedom, harmony, refign'd;
Ambition's groveling crew for ever left behind.

VIII.

Canft thou forego the pure etherial foul
In each fine fenfe fo exquifitely keen,
On the dull couch of Luxury to loll,
Stung with difeafe, and ftupified with fpleen;
Eain to implore the aid of Flattery's fcreen,
Even from thyself thy loathsome heart to hide,
(The manfion then no more of joy ferene)
Where fear, diftruft, malevolence, abide,
And impotent defire, and difappointed pride?

IX.

O how canft thou renounce the boundless store
Of charms which Nature to her vot'ry yields!
The warbling woodland, the refounding fhore,
The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields;
All that the genial ray of morning gilds,
And all that echoes to the fong of even,
All that the mountain's fheltering bofom fhields,
And all the dread magnificence of heaven,

O how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven!

X.

Thefe charms fhall work thy foul's eternal health, And love, and gentlenefs, and joy impart.

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