675 
The Bards of Britain^ 
Bereav’d me In a moment of my pow’r, 
And left me standing as a monument 
For man to gaze on “tremble,—and be 
VVARtJ’b !” 
THE BARDS OF BRITAIN.* 
TO SIR RICHARD PHILLIPS. 
On his presenting the author with the Cabi¬ 
net of English Poetry.” 
Friend of the advent’rous poet’s Infant 
muse, 
Receive this tribute, nor the lay refuse} 
Thy gift invests me with a godlike band, 
The boast, the glory, of my native land ! 
Dear, doubly dear, the precious treasures 
giv’n; 
Dear as the ruddy beam of light from heav’nj 
Unsullied treasures !—with no dross com¬ 
bin’d. 
Unsullied treasures of the Immortal Mind ! 
Long sigh’d-for volumes, stor’d with truths 
divine. 
And fancy’s richest flow’rs,—ye all are mine ! 
Though adverse fortune on my youth has 
frown’d. 
And faithless friends inflicted many a wound, 
XJnnotic’d long} though oft, with grief 
sincere, 
I heav’d the sigh and dropp’d the anguish’d 
tear ; 
Yet, Hope, at length, has built her downy 
nest. 
Oh i blessed change ! within this throbbing 
breast } 
This breast, where late the Raven of Despair 
Sat brooding on the thorns of wich’ring Care. 
Kindheav’n! all-bounteous 1 gives a Friend 
to save, 
I seem re-born, or rescued from the grave ! 
And, in the precious boon which Phillips 
sends, 
My raptur’d heart receives a host of friends ! 
Friends, who will soothe me in misfortune s 
gloom, 
Andto the Mu se’sCourt convert my narrow 
room ! 
Methinks, e’en now, T see the mighty train 
Encircle me around; and each, alternate. 
Accept, with smiles, my homage. In the 
midst, 
With deathless laurel blooming round thy 
brows. 
My gaze is bent on thee, immortal youth ! 
On thee, whom most I pity, love, admire ! 
The beams of gladness sparkle in thine eyes, 
Which, on the portrait of my fost’ring bard, 
^ This poem was written Immediately on 
receiving the present. The happy imitation 
cf the different styles of the personified bards 
clem.onstrates the accuracy v/ith which our 
young poet had read and studied such authors 
as were within his reach, and which, luckily 
for him, happened to be the best among OUT 
national poets.— Mr, Pratt. 
Montblv Mag ^ No. 2^2, 
Seem stedfast riveted }—and sure I hear 
Thy voice exclaim 
[CHATTERTON.] 
Happie itte bie for thle ? 
Reet mycle comforte wele betide thine 
houfee! 
Synne, frae the mokie denne obscuritye, 
VVhilom, lyke myne, thle ruthful thorny© 
bedde, 
An helpen hannde hes gathered thie flowres^ 
Whilk growen by the sun lincheryshed, 
Ande them haes setten, where hyd beem 
devyne 
May keepe them frae a Walpole’s scowlyng 
eyne. 
Ill-fated bard ! I mourn thy hapless fall I 
But, as a sky-harp’d seraph, now I hail 
Thy form divine ! and, with exultance proUd, 
What thou hast left to this ungrateful world. 
Pronounce as mine ! 
TO MILTO?r. 
Oh ! heaven-illumln’d bard! 
Whose wing seraphic soar’d above all height 
In majesty of song, forgive i forgive ! 
That my rash hand should dare, upon thy 
throne," 
Thy starry throne ! to place a hapless youth,, 
Though proudly favor’d by the weeping 
Nine, 
Thy great superior alone In sorrow ! 
Mournful pre-eminence ! Yes, thou wilt 
pardon ;—■ 
And ilI'on’s tear, on Ghatterton’s 
pale urn. 
Shall drop, like balm from weeping cherub’s 
eye ! 
Oh ! how thy awful daring I revere } 
Thou, through the gloom of Chaos and old 
Night, 
Despotic rulers o’er the drear profound. 
Travers’d, with scedfast soul, the pathless 
way ; 
Thou, from the Stygian pool, on heirarch’;? 
wing, 
Soar’d dreadfully sublime} and, ’yond the 
scars, 
Where human eye had never dat’d to loo.k. 
Explor’d the regions of eternal day, 
And on heav’n’s pearly pavement fearless 
trod ! 
With reverential awe, my trembling hand 
Shall turn, at midnight’s hour, thy volumes 
o’er } 
Mount, on the wings of Fancy, by thy side } 
Visit the liquid deepS of hell below ; 
Then, rising on the pinion of the mind. 
To heav’n’s extremest verge shall rapt as¬ 
cend } 
’Till, for a moment, I forget myself, 
Forget I sprang from dust and am a woim 1 
TO DRVDEN., 
Dryden, too, appears, 
To ebarm myr woad’fing ears! 
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