He, in thy nobleft Warfare try'd,
Shall spread thy Empire far and wide;
Confirm the Glories of thy Reign;
And not a Glance fhall fall in vain :
Then, when each Rival shall submit
The Prize of Beauty and of Wit,
And Riches yield to fair Desert
The Triumph of a female Heart;
Graceful thy Marble Form fhall ftand,
Fair-breathing from the Sculptor's Hand,
Beneath the Temple's pillar'd Pride,
Faft by a facred Fountain's Side,
Where Tweed sports round each winding Maze:
There, Song fhall warble, Incense blaze ;
Nor dumb fhall reft the Silver Lyre,
To animate the feftive Choir:
There, twice a Day, fond Boys fhall come,
And tender Virgins in their Bloom,
(With fearful Awe, and Infant-Shame,)
To call upon thy hallow'd Name,
As thrice about the wanton Round
With fnowy Feet they lightly bound.
For Me, no Beauty now invites,
Long recreant to the foft Delights:
Loft to the winning Arts that move,
Ah! dare I hope a mutual Love?
The fond Relief of pleafing Pain,
That hopes, fears, doubts, and hopes again?
No Garlands on my Forehead bloom,
Where Flowers their vernal Souls confume:
No more the reigning Toaft I claim;
I yield the fierce contended Name,
'Though daring once to drink all up,
While Bacchus could fupply the Cup.
Farewell, delufive, idle Power!
And welcome, Contemplation's Hour!
Now, now I fearch, neglected long,
The Charms that lie in moral Song,
How to affwage the boiling Blood,
The Leffons of the wife and good;
Now with fraternal Sorrows mourn ;'
Now pour the Tear o'er Friendship's Urn:
Or higher raife the Wish refin'd,
The generous Prayer for Human Kind;
Or anxious for my Britain's Fate,
To Freedom beg a longer Date,
To calm her more than Civil Rage,
And spare her yet one other Age.
Thefe, these the Labours I pursue:
Fantastic Love, a long Adieu!
-Yet why, O beauteous Laura, why,
Thus heaves the long-forgotten Sigh?
Why down my Cheeks, when you appear,
Steals, Drop by Drop, th' unbidden Tear?
Once skill'd to breathe the anxious Vow,
Why fails my Tongue its Mafter now,
And, faltering, dubious, ftrives in vain
The tender Meaning to explain?
Why, in the Visions of the Night,
Rifes thy Image to my Sight?
Now, feiz'd, thy much-lov'd Form I hold,
Now lose again the tranfient Fold;
Unequal, panting far behind,
I chafe thee fleeter than the Wind,
Whether the dear Delufion ftrays
Through fair Hope-Park's enchanting Maze;
Or, where thy cruel Phantom glides,
Along the swiftly-running Tides.
By Mr. J. DUNCOMBE.
Hoe'er would foar to 2 Pindar's Height Attempts a bold but dangerous Flight On waxen Wings, and, loft to Shame, Will give, like 3 Icarus, the Sea a Name. As, rais'd above its Banks by Showers, A River from a Mountain pours, Rolls Pindar his impetuous Song, And with refiftlefs Fury fweeps along. Juftly he claims Apollo's Bays, Whether in free unfetter'd Lays, Through 4 Dithyrambic Metre bold, New Words with lawless Energy are roll'd; 5 Or whether he, in measur'd Verfe, Of Gods, or Chiefs, the Praife rehearse;
Chiefs, fprung from Gods, whofe Force could
The Centaurs Might, and quench Chimera's Flame.
If with fome Bride, in moving Strains,
He of her Confort's Lofs complains,
And to the Stars exalts the Youth,
For Courage, Piety, and ancient Truth;
7 Or if the Hero, crown'd with Palms,
Or Victor Courfer he embalms,
His lafting Lays in Worth furpass
The breathing Marble, and fepulchral Brass!
When the Dircean Swan would rife,
A Whirlwind bears him to the Skies:
But as the Bee, with ceafelefs Toil,
From each fair Flower collects her balmy Spoil;
Laborious thus my weaker Muse
Light Themes in Tibur's Bower pursues;
But You fhall to a bolder String
The juft Applause of matchlefs Cæfar fing;
While round his Head the Laurel weaves,
For Conquefts won, her verdant Leaves;
And the Sicambrian we furvey'
In Fetters dragg'd along the Sacred Way.
Never was Gift fo good and great
Beftow'd on Man by Heaven, or Fate,
Nor fhall again, fhould Time be roll'd,
With backward Course, to his primæval Gold.
And You fhall fing, in grateful Lays,
The Feafts that Rome to Cæfar pays;
The City's public Sports; the Bar
Freed from litigious Suits, and noisy War.
I too, with feeble Voice, will join
My Song to Your's; O Phoebus! fhine
Aufpicious, with thy brightest Ray,
And grace the Rites of this distinguish'd Day.'
Then Incenfe to the Gods fhall rife,
And fhouting Tös rend the Skies;
All Rome fhall join in choral Song,
As Cæfar's Train triumphant moves along.
Your Vow ten Bulls, as many Kine
Abfolve; a fportive Heifer mine,
Wean'd from his Mother; " on whofe Brows, Full in the Front, a Star its Luftre fhows;
A Glofs of fallow Hue adorns
His Skin; the Crefcent of his Horns,
So fharply turn'd, falutes the Sight, Like Cynthia's Fires, the third revolving Night.
1 Antonius Julus was one of the Children of Mark Antony, by Fulvia. Auguflus, after defeating his Father, not only pardoned the Son, but graced him alfo with the Priesthood, and the Dignities of Prator and Conful. He received him befides into his own Family, by marrying him to one of the Daughters which his Sifter Octavia bore to her firft Hufband, Marcellus. But all these Favours were thrown away on this ungrateful Man, who polluted the House of his generous Benefactor; for he was one of the firft who debauched his Daughter, Julia. This, with fome Proofs of a Confpiracy, to which he was privy, fo highly incenfed Auguftus, that he condemned him to Death. Some Hiftorians relate,
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