Wait we 'till faithlefs France fubmiffive bow
Beneath that Hero's delegated fpear,

Whose light'ning fmote Rebellion's haughty brow,

And scatter'd her vile rout with horror in the rear?

O Land of Freedom, Land of Arts, affume
That graceful dignity thy merits claim;
Exalt thy Heroes like imperial Rome,

And build their virtues on their love of fame.

So fhall the modeft worth, which checks my friend, Forget its blush when rous'd by Glory's charms; From breast to breast the generous warmth defcend, And still new trophies rife, at once, to Arts, and Arms.

f

WAS in this ifle, O Wright indulge my lay,

Whose naval form divides the Tuscan flood,

In the bright dawn of her illustrious day

Rome fix'd her Temple to the healing God.

f The Infula Tiberina, where there are ftill fome fmall remains of the famous temple of Æfculapius.

VOL. VI.

E

Here

Here ftood his altars, here his arm he bared,

And round his myftic ftaff the ferpent twin'd, Through crowded portals hymns of praise were heard, And victims bled, and facred feers divin'd.

On every breathing wall, on every round
Of column, fwelling with proportion'd grace,
Its ftated feat fome votive tablet found,
And storied wonders dignified the place.

Oft from the balmy bleffings of repofe,

And the cool ftillness of the night's deep fhade, To light and health th' exulting Votarist rose, Whilft fancy work'd with med'cine's powerful aid.

Oft in his dreams (no longer clogg'd with fears
Of fome broad torrent, or fome headlong steep,
With each dire form Imagination wears

When harrafs'd Nature finks in turbid sleep)

Oft in his dreams he faw diffufive day

Through bursting glooms its cheerful beams extend;

On billowy clouds faw sportive Genii play,
And bright Hygeia from her heaven defcend.

What

What marvel then, that man's o'erflowing mind Should wreath-bound columns raife, and altars fair, And grateful offerings pay, to Powers fo kind, Though fancy-form'd, and creatures of the Air.

Who that has writh'd beneath the scourge of pain,
Or felt the burthen'd languor of disease,
But would with joy the flighteft réfpite gain,
And idolize the hand which lent him ease?

To thee, my friend, unwillingly to thee

For truths like these the anxious Muse appeals. Can Memory anfwer from affliction free,

Or fpeaks the fufferer what, I fear, he feels?

No, let me hope ere this in Romely grove
Hygeia revels with the blooming Spring,
Ere this the vocal feats the Mufes love

With hymns of praife, like Pæon's temple, ring.

It was not written in the book of Fate

That, wand'ring far from Albion's fea-girt plain, Thy distant Friend fhould mourn thy fhorter date, And tell to alien woods and ftreams his pain.

It was not written. Many a year shall roll,
If aught th' inspiring Muse aright prefage,
Of blameless intercourse from Soul to Soul,

And friendship well matur'd from Youth to Age.

EL EGY VI.

To another FRIEND.

Written at ROME, 1756.

淡淡

BEHOLD, my friend, to this small orb confin'd

The genuine features of Aurelius' face;

The father, friend, and lover of his kind,

Shrunk to a narrow coin's contracted space.

Not fo his fame; for erft did heaven ordain

Whilft feas fhould waft us, and whilst suns should warm, On tongues of men, the friend of man should reign, And in the arts he lov'd the patron charm.

Oft as amidst the mould'ring fpoils of Age,
His moss-grown monuments my steps pursue ;

Oft as my eye revolves the historic page,
Where pass his generous acts in fair review,

The medal of Marcus Aurelius.

Imagi

Imagination grafps at many things,

Which men, which angels might with

rapture fee;

Then turns to humbler fcenes its fafer wings,

And, blush not whilft I speak it, thinks on thee.

With all that firm benevolence of mind,

Which pities, whilft it blames, th' unfeeling vain, With all that active zeal to serve mankind, That tender fuffering for another's pain,

Why wert not thou to thrones imperial rais'd?
Did heedless Fortune lumber at thy birth,
Or on thy virtues with indulgence gaz'd,
And gave her grandeurs to her fons of earth?

Happy for thee, whose less distinguish'd sphere
Now cheers in private the delighted eye,
For calm Content, and smiling Ease are there,
And, Heav'n's divineft gift, fweet Liberty.

Happy for me, on life's ferener flood

Who fail, by talents as by choice restrain'd,
Elfe had I only fhar'd the general good,
And loft the friend the Universe had gain'd.