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Now stretch'd at t.se beside some favourite stream,
• Such prospects, lovely Auburn! then, be thine ;
Within her native bowers the notes prolong,
Thus spoke the bard: but not one friendly power
The bard beholds him beckon to the tomb Of yawning night, eternity's dread womb; Io vain attempts to fly, the impassive air Retards his steps, and yields him to despair ; He feels a gripe that thrills through every vein, And panting struggles in the fatal chain. Here paus'd the fell destroyer to survey The pride, the boast of man, his destined prey; Prepared to strike, he poised aloft the dart, And plunged the steel io virtue's bleeding heart; Abhorrent, back the springs of life rebound, And leave on nature's face a grisly wound. A wound enrolled among Britannia's woes, That ages yet to follow cannot close.
Oh, Goldsmith! how shall sorrow now essay To murmur out her slow incondite lay? In what sad accents mourn the luckless hour, That yielded thee to unrelenting power; Thee, the proud boast of all the tuneful train That sweep the lyre, or swell the polished strain ? Much honoured bard ! if my untutored verse Could pay a tribute worthy of thy hearse, With fearless hands I'd build the fape of praise, And boldly strew the never fading bays. But, ah! with thee my guardian genius fled, And pillowed in thy tomb his silent head: Pain'd memory alone behind remains, And pensive stalks the solitary plains. Rich in her sorrows, honours without art, She pays in tears, redundant from the heart. And say, what boots it o'er thy hallow'd dust To heap the graven pile, or laurel'd bust;
Since by thy hands already rais’d on high,
ESSA Y S.
THERE is not, perhaps, a more whimsical figure
in nature, than a man of real modesty who assumes an air of impudence; who, while his heart beats with apxiety, studies ease and affects good humour. In this situation, however, every unexpe. rienced writer, as I am, finds himself. Impressed with terrors of the tribunal before which he is going to appear, his natural humour turns to pertness, and for real wit he is obliged to substitute vivacity.
For my part, as I was never distinguished for ad.. dress, and have often even blundered in making my bow, I am at a loss whether to be merry or sad on this solemn occasion. Should I modestly decline all merit, it is too probable the hasty reader may take me at my word. If, on the other hand, like labourers in the magazine trade, I humbly presume to promise an epitome of all the good things that were ever said or written, those readers I most desire to please may forsake me.
My bookseller, in this dilemma, perceiving my embarrassment, instantly offered his assistance and advice. You must know, sir,' says he, that the republic of leters is at present divided into several