‘ } 
1800. ] 
By luxury unnerv’d! Beneath his feet, 
The polith’d pavement muft be fprinkl'd o’er 
. With perfumes of Arabia! From above, . 
The lattic’d roof, with fummer flow’rs o’er- 
hung, 
>Midft aromatic fweets, fhed cooling airs 
On his feaft-fever’d cheek ! On ev'ry fide, 
In fumptuous colonades of Parian ftone, 
Or glittring granite, or the fibrous earth 
Of richSrenwa’s hills; flow-breathing flutes, 
In dulcet ftrains, take captive the dull fenfe 
Through the long hour of feafting 5 cheating. 
SS REime 
With enervating blifs! O! 
F iN es 
Yet wuo, amidft the mortal myriads, 
Mot labour’d to embellifh Natrure’s plan 
Of boundlefs wonders? Wuo, with ceafelefs 
toil, 
Dug from the beamlefs mazes of the earth 
ConNTRAST IN- 
The boaft of varying climes, from LyB1a’s 
groves 
To caves ARMENIAN, guarded by the rocks 
Of wild Evpuratres? Who, but the Sons 
oF To1L, ser 
Enrich’d the fculptur’d dome, reviv’d the 
ARTS, 
Sinking, o’erwhelm’d, amidft the wrecks of 
time? 
Look round the lofty palaces of Prirpr, 
Behold the BREATHING CANVAS, ,won- 
@rous proof 
Of imitative pow’r! where human forms, 
Colours, and fpace, miraculoufly rang’d, 
Drew order out of chaos! where the vaft 
Of bold perception varied hues difclos’d, 
From the rich foliage of embow’ring woods 
To mountains, azure capp’d, fcarce vifible 
Amid the dufk of diftance. Trace the lines 
That form the graceful staTrur, Grecian 
born 
From rough-hewn quarries 
ing limb, 
The modeft look ferene! which marks the 
nymph ‘ 
Of Mepiceawn fame: proud monument. 
Of Heav’n-inftruGed Genius! thou shale 
charm 
When pompand pride fhall mingle in the mafs 
/ Of undiftinguifh’d clay, inanimate, 
That, having borne its hour of bufy toil, 
Shrinks into fhapelefs nothing! Dreadful 
thought! 
To mingle with the cold and fenfelefs earth ; 
In fpells of dull inanity to reft; ] 
The nobleft pafiions, and the living pow’rs 
Of intelletual light, the Sovz’s pure lamp, 
All, allextinguith’'d! Tellme, Nature’s Gon! 
| Then what is the warm magic that fupplies 
The ftrong life-loving flame, which fills the 
breaft, * , 
 Enliv’ning Time’s flow journey? Liperty! 
If thou art not the impulfe exquifite, 
Where does it dwell ? What elfe can teach the 
wretch — 
(Lab’ring with mortal ills, difeafe and pain,” 
Deep-wounding poverty prefumptuous fcorn, 
! See the round- 
Original Poetry, by Mrs. Robinfon: 
The godlike wonders fled. The FIRST> fub- 
The darling of his race; majeftic! grand! 
. ) 
261 
; 
High-crefted arrogance, affe@tion’s fptirn’d,) ib 
To bear the weight of thought, and linger at 
out if 
This weary tafk of being? Bleft with THEE, {" 
The PEASANT were as happy. as his Lornp— 
For Nature knows no difference! Summer 
fmiles 
For the poor cottager, and fmiling fhews 
The vegetating fcene, diffufing fair 
And equal portions for the fons of earth! 
But Man, proup Man, a bold ufurper, i 
talzes Si 
The law of Nature from its deftin’d courfe, I 
And fafhions it at pleafure! Hence we trace it 
The gloomy annals of receding time 
Spotted with gore, and blurr’d by pity’s tears, ij 
Where Genius, VirtTur, NATURE’S pro- i 
geny }! a 
Mark’d by th’ Erernax’s hand with evry 
charm, i 
Have fhrunk beneath Oppreffion !—-bow’d the i 
neck 
Before the blood-ftain’d fhrines of impious 
fraud, 
Flouted by fools, the gilded dregs of earth, 
And fore’d to hide the gufhing tear offcorn, 
Till driv’n to.mountain Caves, and defart 
glooms, 




lime, 
With eyes, whofe living luftre beam’d afar 
The blaze of intelle&i, Promethean-touch’d, | 
And infinitely radiant !——- 

By his fide, | 
Beauteous and mild as Morn’s returning 
STAR, i 
The maiden, VIRTUE, mov’d! and who can i 
tell 
But in fome hovel low, whofe rufhy roof 
The barren cliff defends from wint’ry ftorms, { 
The godlike pair, {corning the din of fools, 
(Ambition’s clamour, which the defpot, “i 
DEATH, 
Awhile obferves, then, with his iron hand, 
Locks in eternal filence!) who can tell, 
But the proud pair, by Reason’s pow’r faf~ i 

tain’d, | 
Cherith a glorious race? StaTEesMEN and i 
CuiEFs, i 
Ports, and fage Puirosopuers, whofe 
lore 
Might rival ancient Greece, and nobly prove 
The folitudeof VinTur—Wispom’sScHoor! 
Se 
LINES TO THE RED-BREAST. 
LONE fongftrefs of the waning year, i 
The firft amid the feather’d choir : 
That warbling many a wild note clear | 
Attunes the lay to young defire ; 
Why {wells with grief thy little throat ? 
Why do thy plumes diforder’d lie ? , 
Say from what caufe that penfive note 
Proceeds, and why that alter’d eye? | 
Has 
