Original Poetry, 



244 



Ideas i<nggeet«d in an Excursion through Finn- 

 dcrx in 1790. 



Reinarki! mnde on a Tour to t lie Laket of West- 

 morland and Cumberland, 1790, with a Sketch of 

 the Police of France. 



A Treatise of Geography and the Use of the 

 Globes. 



[April 1, 



A System of Familiar Philosophy, 1799, 4to. 



He was also a contributor to the Phi- 

 losophical TrausactioQS ; to Young's An- 

 nals of Agriculture, and to rariou* Ma- 

 gazines. 



ORIGINAL POETRY. 



CARTHAGE. 



TAUT I. 



ON Libya's shore, hull buried in the 

 SQUd, 



The scntfered ruins of old Carthage stand : 

 They stand alone — no human dwellings 



round — 

 No human footstep on the burning pfTound. 

 Above a brilliant sun and cloudless sky, 

 Behind — is spread the desert waste and dry, 

 While full before majestic Ocean's force 

 Sweeps proudly on in one unvaried course. 

 Here, over crumbling fragments as we 



tread, 

 The soul recalls those days of glon' fied. 

 When, on this very spot, the busy feet 

 Of eager thousands thronged the spacious 



street : 

 When girt with stately towers the city rose. 

 And from lier triple wall defied her foes. 

 Let not our rev'rence for Rome's mighty 



name 

 Detract unjustly from her rival's fame ; 

 Bui let us, in impartial mood, review 

 That rival's deeds, and pay the honour due. 

 She, by her parent Tyre's example taught, 

 To raise her power upon her commerce 



sought ; 

 O'er unknown seas her fleets she dared to 



urge, 

 Where yet, no pitchy keel had stained the 



surge ; 

 Each distant coast her vent'rous sons ex- 

 plored. 

 In ev'ry bay her gallant harks were moored ; 

 And, in the treasure of the worlil arrayed, 

 Great Carthage reared on high her awful 



head. 

 Dost thou enquire to what propitious God 

 Her empire's quick aggrandizement she 



owed? 

 Thou mayst discover in her historj' 

 That Freedom was the fost'ring deity. 

 Within her walls no despot sat enthroned, — 

 No wretched slave in hopeless bondage 



groaued: 

 But Liberty's impetuous spirit fired 

 Each gen'rous breast, and patriot zeal 



inspired. 

 Alas I no patriot zeal can mitigate 

 Th' impending horrors of 'elentless fate. 

 As some tall ship, by fav'ring gales im- 

 pelled, 

 Through gentle seas a prosperous course hath 



held, 

 And when the seaman's anxious gaze des- 

 cries 

 The hills that round her long-sought harbour 

 rise. 



Strikes on some treacL'rous rock th' uncon- 

 scious prow. 

 And o'er her sides the whelming waters 



How : 

 Thus Carthage, year by yeajT, beheld in 



peace 

 Her empire widen and her wealth increase ; 

 Nor dreamt that destiny's resistless whirl 

 Soon from its base her giant power should 



hurl. 

 Unhappy city ! with a fell delight 

 The Roman hastes to crash thy growing 



might : 

 And, as the victim of the Indian snake 

 Still vainly struggles from his grasp to break. 

 Yet feels each iori'ring coil more closely 



prest, 

 Till the heart dies within its stifled uest : 

 So thy fierce conflict with the ruthless foe 

 Shall but delay thy fated overthrow. 

 Yet, though successless in that strife sub- 

 lime, 

 Its glory mocks th' invidious power of time,j 

 And while the love of Freedom shall main- 

 tain 

 Within the human breast its holy reigu. 

 The nations of the earth shall mourp thy 



doom, 

 And gaze with rev'rence on thy lonely tomb. 

 J. A. M. 

 25th October, 1821. 



TO EVENING. 

 From MoscHus, Idyll. VII. 



All hail ! lov'd Eve ! whose golden light 

 Becomes the radiant queen of love ; 



Bright, consecrated sign of night. 

 When it o'erspreads th» vault above. 



As much as silver Cynthia's beams 



Excel thy less effulgent ray. 

 So much thy splendour far outgleams 



The stars which gild tlie azure way. 



Then in the moon's pale lustre's place 

 That now in haste forsakes the sky. 



Do thou illume with milder grace 

 The path to where my pleasures lie. 



Unarm'd with Rapine's hateful power, 

 I would not take another's right ; 



Nor force the rich man's massy door. 

 Nor stop the Traveller in his flight. 



But Love, the holder of the dart 



Dipt in the fount of bliss and pain. 

 Compels my wounded thrilling heart 

 To .seek the maid I love again 



Fred. Hopkins. 

 Aberford, Aug. \6th 1820. 



EPITAPH 



