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Non omnes arbusta juvant humilesque myricæ.
VIRGIL.

KNIGHT of the Polar Star! by Fortune plac'd,
To shine the Cynosure of British taste;
Whose orb collects in one refulgent view
The scatter'd glories of Chinese Virtù ;
And spreads their lustre in so broad a blaze,
That kings themselves are dazzled, while they
gaze!

O let the Muse attend thy march sublime,
And, with thy prose, caparison her rhyme;
Teach her, like thee, to gild her splendid song
With scenes of Yven-Ming†, and sayings of
Li-Tsong;

Like thee to scorn Dame Nature's simple fence;
Leap each ha ha of truth and common sense;
And, proudly rising in her bold career,
Demand attention from the gracious ear
Of him, whom we and all the world admit
Patron supreme of science, taste, and wit.
Does Envy doubt? Witness, ye chosen train !
Who breathe the sweets of his Saturnian reign;
Witness, ye H*lls, ye J*ns*ns, Sc*ts, S*bb*s,
Hark to my call, for some of you have ears.
Let D**d H*e, from the remotest North,
In see-saw sceptic scruples hint his worth;
D**d, who there supinely deigns to lye
The fattest hog of Epicurus' sty;

Though drunk with Gallic wine, and Gallic
praise,

D**d shall bless old England's halcyon days;
The mighty Home, bemir'd in prose so long,
While bold Mac-Ossian, wont in ghosts to deal,
Again shall stalk upon the stilts of song;
Bids candid Smollet from his coffin steal;
Bids Mallock quit his sweet Elysian rest,
Sunk in his St. John's philosophic breast,
And, like old Orpheus, make some strong effort
To come from hell and warble truth at court§.
There was a time, " in Esher's peaceful grove,
"When Kent and Nature vied for Pelham's
love,"

That Pope beheld them with auspicious smile,
And own'd that Beauty bless'd their mutual toil.
Mistaken bard! could such a pair design
Scenes fit to live in thy immortal line?
Hadst thou been born in this enlighten'd day,
Felt, as we feel, Taste's Oriental ray,
Thy satire sure had given them both a stab,
Call'd Kent a driveller, and the Nymph a
drab.

For what is Nature? ring her changes round,
Her three flat notes are water, plants, and
ground;

Prolong the peal, yet spite of all your clatter,
The tedious chime is still ground, plants, and

water .

So, when some John his dull invention racks,
To rival Boodle's dinners, or Almack's;
Three uncouth legs of mutton shock our eyes,
Three roasted geese, three butter'd apple pies.

Come then, prolific art, and with thee bring The charms that rise from thy exhaustless spring;

* Cynosure, an affected phrase. Cynosure is a constellation of Ursa Minor, or the Lesser Bear, the next star to the Pole. Dr. Newton on the word in Milton.

+ One of the imperial gardens at Pekin.

"Many trees, shrubs, and flowers," sayeth Li-Tsong, a Chinese author of great antiquity, "thrive best in low, moist situations; many on hills and mountains; some require a rich soil; but others will grow on clay, in sand, or even upon rocks, and in the water; to some a sunny exposition is necessary; but for others the shade is preferable. There are plants which thrive best in exposed situations, but in general shelter is requisite. The skilful gardener, to whom study and experience have taught these qualities, carefully attends to them in his operations, knowing that thereon depend the health and growth of his plants, and consequently the beauty of his plantations." Vide Diss. p. 77. The reader, I presume, will readily allow, that he never met with so much recondite truth, as this ancient Chinese here exhibits.

§ Vide (if it be extant) a poem under this title, for which (or for the publication of Lord Bolingbroke's philosophical writings) the person here mentioned received a considerable pension in the time of Lord B-t's administration."

This is the great and fundamental axiom, on which Oriental taste is founded. It is therefore expressed here with the greatest precision, and in the identical phrase of the great original. The figurative terms, and even the explanatory simile, are entirely borrowed from Sir William's Dissertation. "Nature (says the Chinese, or Sir William for him) affords us but few materials to work with. Plants, ground, and water, are her only productions; and, though both the forms and arrangements of these may be varied to an incredible degree, yet they have but few striking varieties, the rest being of the nature of changes rung upon bells, which, though in reality different, still produce the same uniform kind of jingling; the variation being too minute to be easily perceived." "Art must therefore supply the scantiness of Nature," &c. &c. p. 14. And again," Our larger works are only a repetition of the small ones, like the honest Bachelor's feast, which consisted in nothing but a multiplication of his own dinner: three legs of mutton and turnips, three roasted geese, and three butiered apple pies." Preface, page 7.

To Richmond come, for see untutor'd Brown
Destroys those wonders which were once thy

own.

Lo, from his melon-ground the peasant slave
Has rudely rush'd, and levell'd Merlin's Cave;
Knock'd down the waxen wizard, seiz'd his
wand,

Transform'd to lawn what late was Fairy land;
And marr'd, with impious hand, each sweet
design

Of Stephen Duck and good Queen Caroline.
Haste, bid yon livelong Terrace re-ascend,
Re-place each vista, straighten every bend;
Shut out the Thames, shall that ignoble thing
Approach the presence of great Ocean's King?
No! let Barbaric glories feast his eyes,
August Pagodas round his palace rise,
And finish'd Richmond open to his view,
"A work to wonder at, perhaps a Kew."

Nor rest we here, but, at our magic call, Monkeys shall climb our trees, and lizards crawlt

Huge dogs of Tibet bark in yonder grove,
Here parrots prate, there cats make cruel love;
In some fair island will we turn to grass
(With the Queen's leave) her elephant and ass,
Giants from Africa shall guard the glades,
Where hiss our snakes, where sport our Tartar
maids;

* So Milton,

Or, wanting these, from Charlotte Hayes we
Damsels alike adroit to sport and sting. [bring
Now, to our lawns of dalliance and delight
Join we the groves of horror and affright:
This to achieve no foreign aids we try;
Thy gibbets, Bagshot ! shall our wants supply;
Hounslow, whose heath sublimer terrors fills,
Shall with her gibbets lend her powder-mills.
Here, too, O King of Vengeance§, in thy fane,
Tremendous Wilkes shall rattle his gold chain||;
And round that fane, on many a Tyburn tree,
Hang fragments dire of Newgate-history;
On this shall H*ll*d's dying speech be read,
Here B-te's confession, and his wooden head;
While all the minor plunderers of the age,
(Too numerous far for this contracted page)
The R*gy*ys,- -ST, Mungos, B*ds *ws there,
In straw-stuft effigy, shall kick the air.
But say, ye powers, who come when fancy
calls,
[walls?
Where shall our mimic London rear her
The Eastern feature, Art must next produce,
Though not for present yet for future use:
Our sons some slave of greatness may behold,
Cast in the genuine Asiatic mould,
Who of three realms shall condescend to know
No more than he can spy from Windsor's brow;
For him, that blessing of a better time,

The Muse shall deal a while in brick and lime;

"Where the gorgeous east with richest hand
Showers on her kings Barbaric pearl and gold."

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"In their lofty woods serpents and lizards of many beautiful sorts crawl upon the ground. Innumerable monkeys, cats, and parrots clamber upon the trees." Page 40. "In their lakes are many islands, some small, some large, among which are seen stalking along, the elephant, the rhinoceros, the dromedary, ostrich, and the giant baboon.' Page 66. They keep, in their enchanted scenes, a surprising variety of monstrous birds, reptiles, and animals, which are tamed by it, and guarded by enormous dogs of Tibet, and African giants, in the habits of magicians." Page 42. "Sometimes in this romantic excursion, the passenger finds himself in extensive recesses, surrounded with arbors of jessamine, vine, and roses: where beauteous Tartarean damsels, in loose transparent robes that flutter in the air, present him with rich wines, &c. and invite him to taste the sweets of retirement on Persian carpets, and beds of Camusakin down.”

"Their scenes of terror are composed of gloomy woods, &c. Gibbets, crosses, wheels, and the whole apparatus of torture are seen from the roads. Here too they conceal in cavities, on the summits of the highest mountains, foundries, lime-kilns, and glass-works, which send forth large volumes of flame, and continued columns of thick smoke, that give to these mountains the appearance of volcanos." Page 37. "Here the passenger from time to time is surprised with repeated shocks of electrical impulse; the earth trembles under by the power of confined air," &c. Page 39. Now to produce both these effects, viz. the appearance of volcanos and earthquakes, we have here submitted the occasional explosion of a powder-mill, which (if there be not too much simplicity in the contrivance) it is apprehended will at once answer all the purposes of lime-kilns and electrical machines, and imitate thunder and the explosion of canon into the bargain. Vide Page 40.

§"In the most dismal recesses of the woods, are temples dedicated to the King of Vengeance, near which are placed pillars of stone, with pathetic descriptions of tragical events; and many acts of cruelty perpetrated there by outlaws and robbers." Page 37.

This was written when Mr. Wilkes was Sheriff of London, and when it was to be feared he would rattle his chain a year longer as Lord Mayor.

Martins. The asterims will be easily supplied.

**“There is likewise in the same garden, viz. Yven-Ming Yven, near Pekin, a fortified town, with its ports, streets, public squares, temples, markets, shops, and tribunals of justice; in short, with every thing that is at Pekin, only on a smaller scale. In this town the Emperors of China, who are too much the slaves of their greatness to appear in public, and their women, who are secluded

Surpass the bold AAEA in design,
And o'er the Thames fling one stupendous line
Of marble arches *, in a bridge, that cuts
From Richmond Ferry slant to Brentford Butts:
Brentford with London's charms will we
adorn ;

Brentford, the bishoprick of Parson Horne.
There at one glance, the royal shall meet
eye
Each varied beauty of St. James's Street;
Stout T*b*t there shall ply with hackney
chairt,

And Patriot Betty fix her fruit-shop there. Like distant thunder, now the coach of state Rolls o'er the bridge, that groans beneath its weight; [begin, The Court hath cross'd the stream; the sports Now N**I preaches of rebellion's sin : And as the powers of his strong pathos rise, Lo, brazen tears fall from Sir Fl**r's eyes§. While sculking round the pews, that babe of grace,

Who ne'er before at sermon show'd his face,
See Jemmy Twitcher shambles; stop, stop
thief || !
[chief.
He's stol'n the E of D*nb hs' handker-
Let B*rr*t*n arrest him in mock fury¶¶,
And M**d hang the knave without a jury*
But hark! the voice of battle shouts from far,
The Jews and Macaronis are at war††:
The Jews prevail, and, thundering from the
stocks,
[C's F.
They seize, they bind, they circumcisett
Fair Schw***n smiles the sport to see,
And all the Maids of Honor cry Te-he§§!
Be these the rural pastimes that attend
Great B*nswk's leisure: these shall best un-
bend
[drawn,
His royal mind, whene'er, from state with-
He treads the velvet of his Richmond lawn;
These shall prolong his Asiatic dream,
Though Europe's balance trembles on its beam.
And thou, Sir William! while thy plastic hand
Creates each wonder, which thy Bard has
plann'd ;

While, as thy art commands, obsequious rise
Whate'er can please, or frighten, or surprise,
O let that Bard his Knight's protection claim,
And share, like faithful Sancho, Quixote's fame.

§ 139. Pleasures of Memory: a Poem.
By SAMUEL ROGERS, Esq.

Down by yon hazel copse, at evening blaz'd The Gipsy's faggot-there we stood and gaz'd;

Gaz'd on her sun-burnt face with silent awe,
Her tatter'd mantle, and her hood of straw;
Her moving lips, her caldron brimming o'er;
The drowsy brood that on her back she bore,
Imps, in the barn with mousing owlet bred,
From rifled roost at nightly revel fed;
Whose dark eyes flash'd through locks of black-
est shade,
[Lay'd:
When in the breeze the distant watch-dog
And heroes fled the Sibyl's mutter'd call,
Whose elfin prowesss scal'd the orchard-wall.
As o'er my palm the silver piece she drew,
And trac'd the line of life with searching
view,

How throbb'd my fluttering pulse with hopes and fears,

To learn the color of my future years!

Ah, then, what honest triumph flush'd my

breast!

This truth once known-To bless is to be blest!
We led the bending beggar on his way
(Bare were his feet, his tresses silver gray);
Sooth'd the keen pangs his aged spirit felt,
And on his tale with mute attention dwelt.
As in his scrip we dropt our little store,
And wept to think that little was no more,
He breath'd his pray'r; "Long may such
"goodness live!""

'Twas all he gave, 'twas all he had to give.

But hark! through those old firs, with sullen

swell

[well! The church-clock strikes! ye tender scenes fareIt calls me hence, beneath their shade to trace The few fond lines that Time may soon efface. On yon gray stone that fronts the chancel

door,

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from it by custom, are frequently diverted with the hurry and bustle of the capital, which is here represented, several times of the year, by the eunuchs of the palace." Page 32.

Sir William's enormous account of Chinese bridges, too long to be here inserted. Vide

page 53.

"Some of these eunuchs personate porters." Page 32.

"Fruits and all sorts of refreshments are cried about the streets in this mock city." Page 33.

"Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek."

Milton.

"Neither are thieves, pickpockets, and sharpers forgot in these festivals; that noble profession is usually allotted to a good number of the most dexterous!" Vide ibid. "The watch seizes on the culprit." Vide ibid.

"He is conveyed before the judge, and sometimes severely bastinadoed." Ibid. ++"Quarrels happen-battles ensue.". Ibid.

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Every liberty is permitted, there is no distinction of persons." Ibid.

"This is done to divert his Imperial Majesty, and the ladies of his train.” Vide ibid.

$140. From the Same.

OFT has the aged tenant of the vale
Lean'd on his staff to lengthen out the tale;
Oft have his lips the grateful tribute breath'd,
From sire to son with pious zeal bequeath'd.
When o'er the blasted heath the day declin'd,
And on the scath'd oak warr'd the winter wind:
When not a distant taper's twinkling ray
Gleam'd o'er the furze to light him on his way;
When not a sheep-bell sooth'd his listening ear,
And the big rain-drops told the tempest near;
Then did his horse the homeward track descry,
The track that shunn'd his sad inquiring eye;
And win each wavering purpose to relent,
With warmth so mild, so gently violent,
That his charm'd hand the careless rein re-
sign'd,

And doubts and terrors vanish'd from his mind.
Recall the traveller, whose alter'd form
Has borne the buffet of the mountain storm;
And who will first his fond impatience meet?
His faithful dog's already at his feet!
Yes, though the porter spurn him from his door,
Though all, that knew him, know his face no

more,

His faithful dog shall tell his joy to each,
With that mute eloquence which passes speech.
And see, the master but returns to die!
Yet who shall bid the watchful servant fly?
The blasts of heaven, the drenching dews of
earth,

The wanton insults of unfeeling mirth;
These, when to guard misfortune's sacred grave,
Will firm Fidelity exalt to brave.

Led by what chart, transports the timid dove The wreaths of conquest, or the vows of love? Say through the clouds what compass points her flight? [sight. Monarchs have gaz'd, and nations blest the Pile rocks on rocks, bid woods and mountains rise,

Eclipse her native shades, her native skies ;'Tis vain! through ether's pathless wilds she

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Though far below the forked lightnings play,
And at his feet the thunder dies away,
Oft, in the saddle rudely rock'd to sleep,
While his mule browses on the dizzy steep,
With memory's aid, he sits at home, and sees
His children sport beneath their native trees,
And bends, to hear their cherub voices call,
O'er the loud fury of the torrent's fall.

But can her smile with gloomy Madness dwell?

Say, can she chase the horrors of his cell?
Each fiery flight on phrensy's wing restrain,
And mould the coinage of the fever'd brain?
Pass but that grate, which scarce a gleam sup-
plies,

There in the dust the wreck of Genius lies!
He, whose arresting hand sublimely wrought
Each bold conception in the sphere of thought;
Who from the quarried mass, like Phidias, drew
Forms ever fair, creations ever new!
But as he fondly snatch'd the wreath of Fame,
The spectre Poverty unnerv'd his frame.
Cold was her grasp, a withering scowl she wore ;
And Hope's soft energies were felt no more.
Yet still how sweet the soothings of his art!
From the rude stone what bright ideas start!
E'en now he claims the amaranthine wreath,
With scenes that glow, with images that
breathe!

And whence these scenes, these images, declare; Whence but from her who triumphs o'er despair?

Awake, arise! with grateful fervor fraught,
Go spring the mine of elevated thought.
He who, through Nature's various walk, surveys
The good and fair her faultless line portrays;
Whose mind, prophan'd by no unhallow'd
guest,

Culls from the crowd the purest and the best;
May range, at will, bright Fancy's golden clime,
Or musing, mount where Science sits sublime,
Or wake the spirit of departed Time.
Who acts thus wisely, mark the moral Muse,
A blooming Eden in his life reviews!
So richly cultur'd ev'ry native grace,
Its scanty limits he forgets to trace :
But the fond fool, when evening shades the sky,
Turns but to start, and gazes but to sigh!
The weary waste, that lengthen'd as he ran,
Fades to a blank, and dwindles to a span!

Ah! who can tell the triumphs of the mind,
By truth illumin'd, and by taste refin'd?
When age has quench'd the eye and clos'd the

ear,

Still nerv'd for action in her native sphere,
Oft will she rise-with searching glance pursue
Some long-lov'd image vanish'd from her view;
Dart through the deep recesses of the past,
O'er dusky forms in chains of slumber cast;
With giant-grasp fling back the folds of night,
And snatch the faithless fugitive to light.

So through the grove th' impatient mother flies,

Each sunless glade, each secret pathway tries;

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And heaven and nature open'd to their view!
Oft, when he trims his cheerful hearth, and sees
A smiling circle emulous to please;
There may these gentle guests delight to dwell,
And bless the scene they lov'd in life so well!
O thou! with whom my heart was wont to
share

[care;
From Reason's dawn each pleasure and each
With whom, alas! I fondly hop'd to know
The humble walk of happiness below;
If thy blest nature now unites above
An angel's pity with a brother's love,
Still o'er my life preserve thy mild control,
Correct my views, and elevate my soul:
Grant me thy peace and purity of mind,
Devout yet cheerful, active yet resign'd;

§ 143. Verses on a Tear. From the Same.
OH! that the Chemist's magic art
Could crystallise this sacred treasure! *
Long should it glitter near my heart,
A secret source of pensive pleasure.
The little brilliant, ere it fell,
Its lustre caught from Chloe's eye;
Then trembling, left its coral cell-
The spring of sensibility!

Sweet drop of pure and pearly light,
In thee the rays of Virtue shine,
More calmly clear, more mildly bright,
Than any gem that gilds the mine.
Benign restorer of the soul!
Who ever fly'st to bring relief,
When first she feels the rude control
Of Love or Pity, Joy or Grief:
The sage's and the poet's theme,
In every clime, in every age;
Thou charm'st in Fancy's idle dream,
In Reason's philosophic page.

That very law which moulds a tear,
And bids it trickle from its source,
That law preserves the earth a sphere,

Grant me, like thee, whose heart knew no dis- And guides the planets in their course.

guise,

Whose blameless wishes never aim'd to rise,
To meet the changes Time and Chance present,
With modest dignity and calm content.
When thy last breath, ere Nature sunk to rest,
Thy meek submission to thy God express'd;
When thy last look, ere thought and feeling
fled,

A mingled gleam of hope and triumph shed;
What to thy soul its glad assurance gave,
Its hope in death, its triumph o'er the grave?
The sweet remembrance of unblemish'd youth,
The inspiring voice of Innocence and Truth!
Hail, Memory, hail! in the exhaustless

mine

From age to age unnumber'd treasures shine!
Thought and her shadowy brood thy call obey,
And Place and Time are subject to thy sway!
Thy pleasures most we feel when most alone;
The only pleasures we can call our own.
Lighter than air, Hope's summer-visions die,
If but a fleeting cloud obscure the sky;
If but a beam of sober Reason play,
Lo, Fancy's fairy frost-work melts away!
But can the wiles of Art, the grasp of Power,
Snatch the rich relics of a well-spent hour?
These, when the trembling spirit wings her
flight,

Pour round her path a stream of living light;
And gild those pure and perfect realms of rest,
Where Virtue triumphs, and her sons are blest.

The law of Gravitation.

§ 144. A Sketch of the Alps at Day-break. From the Same.

THE sun beams streak the azure skies,
And line with light the mountain's brow:
With hounds and horns the hunters rise,
And chase the roe-buck through the snow.
From rock to rock, with giant bound,
High on their iron poles they pass;
Mute, lest the air, convuls'd by sound,
Rend from above a frozen masst.
The goats wind slow their wonted way,
Up craggy steeps and ridges rude;
Mark'd by the wild wolf for his prey,
From desert cave or hanging wood.
And while the torrent thunders loud,
And as the echoing cliffs reply,
The huts peep o'er the morning cloud,
Perch'd like an eagle's nest, on high.

$145. A Wish. From the Same.
MINE be a cot beside the hill;
A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear;
A willowy brook, that turns a mill,
With many a fall shall linger near.
The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch,
Shall twitter from her clay-built nest;
Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch,
And share my meal, a welcome guest.

+ There are passes in the Alps, where the guides tell you to move on with speed, and thing, lest the agitation of the air should loosen the snows above. GRAY, sect. v. let. 4.

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