In imitation of TIBULLUS.
The COMFORTS of a retired LIFE.
Tutus ab infidiis tenui folabitur ervo.
ET the pale mifer view with eager eyes
In glittering heaps his hoarded treasure rise;
Let trumpets rouze the hardy wretch to arms,
And banish sweet repose with dire alarms.
In humble poverty fecurely blest
No cares diftract me, and no fears moleft.
Nor felfifh avarice taints with mean defires,
Nor thirst of fame to perilous action fires.
Hail, tranquil poverty, the muse's friend,
Whom health, and peace, and fober joys attend!
My lowly cell affords a calm retreat,
Scorn'd by the rich, nor envy'd by the great.
My lowly cell can all my wants releive:
What more have gaudy palaces to give?
From restless folly free, and noisy ftrife,
How sweet the comforts of a country life!
Now can I with a little live content,
And laugh at fools on wealth and business bent.
Now can I fhun the dog-ftar's fcorching heat
By purling ftreams beneath the cool retreat.
A ruftic now, each wanton branch I curb,
Each budding flow'r I tend, each springing herb.
Now the fharp goad I bear with patient hand,
And chide the ling'ring ox along the land;
Now in my bofom footh fome ftraggling lamb,
Pining with grief, and bleating for his dam.
My little herd, ye rav'ning wolves, forbear;
Ye thieves, learn pity, nor my fold enfnare:
Fly hence, and to fome wealthy churl away,
Where numerous flocks afford a larger prey.
Vain pelf I would not wifh, nor ftores require
Of harvests hoarded by a careful fire.
Give me, kind heav'n, with pleasing labours spent
To reft my
wearied limbs in fweet content.
Give me, but oh! how fruitless is my pray'r!
Some fond, confenting, easy, love-fick fair.
With her the live-long hours I'd prattling wafte,
Act o'er each amorous wile and courtship paft:
Or when the wintry fouth tempeftuous blows,
Lock'd in my circling Arms I'd grasp her close,
And lull'd by drizling fhow'rs fecurely doze.
Be wealth his prize, who tempts the treacherous waves, Scorns the loud tempeft, and the whirlwind braves. All gold fhould perifh in its native mine, E'er for my abfence my kind girl fhould pine. Peru's rich mountains would too dearly buy One pitying tear from her, one tender figh.
Be arms, ye dauntless champions, your delight,
Go tempt the dangers of the vigorous fight;
On hoftile fields Britannia's rights maintain,
Or vindicate her empire o'er the main.
Me gentler Love in foft refiftless chains
A willing flave to beauty's pow'r detains.
Renown, vain phantom, I to others leave:
The hours with you, my DELIA, to deceive,
All honour I refign: now, faucy fame,
Call me a coward; I glory in the name.
O may I dying view that lovely face,
And feal my parting with a fond embrace!
Then fhalt thou eager catch my fleeting breath,
Then grafp my faultering hand benumb'd in death.
And when the fable train of mourning friends
In difmal pomp my breathlefs corps attends,
Wilt thou not then hang madly o'er my bier,
And wash my grave with many a gushing tear?
Yes, thou wilt weep: I know thy tender breaft
With all the foftnefs of thy fex poffeft:
But, left my restless manes you offend,
Beat not that bofom, nor thofe treffes rend,
Taught by thy grief what virgin will not mourn?
What youth not pitying thee will thence return?
For ev'ry heart fhall feel the common woe,
And ev'ry eye with ftreams of forrow flow.
Then let us now the prefent hour improve
With mutual joys, and waste it all in love.
Death foon will come, his head in darkness vail'd;
Then, while the fates permit, to pleasure yield.
Dull fluggish age creeps on with filent pace,
And fteals unnotic'd on our fhort-liv'd race.
Dim burns the lover's flame, or quite expires,
When aged wrinkles fuit not warm defires.
How vile, when doating grey-beards idly prate
In fond endearments with a hoary pate!
Whilft our hot blood with youthful ardour boils, The streets we scour, and mix in midnight broils.
Bold and expert in VENUS' foft alarms,
A harmless warfare ours, and pointless arms.
Go, ye ambitious, be in fight renown'd,
Difplay your banners, and your trumpets found;
Be crown'd with laurel, the proud victor's claim,
Heap wealth on wealth, and deathlefs be your fame.
If DELIA deign to fhare my poor retreat,
Kind heav'n can add no more, to make my blifs compleat.
If this is approved by the publick, the AUTHOR will occafionally oblige us with more ELEGIES in the fame Style and manner.
CHORUS at the end of the Second ACT of the HECUBA of EURIPIDES.
E breezes mild and gentle gales,
Whose breath propitious fills the fwelling fails, And bids the veffel fwiftly glide
Thro' angry feas, and ftem the ftubborn tide,
O whither, whither will ye bear me hence
To haughty pow'r a flave and lawless infolence?
Will ye alas! in Doric lands
Subject me to fome proud Greek's ftern commands?
Or waft me to the fertile coast
Of Pthia, where in wand'ring mazes loft
The fam'd Apidanus rolls his filver floods
Thro' meads of verdant hue, and shadowy darkling woods?
Or muft I to the ifle repair,
Select and facred to LATONA fair,
Where verdant laurels never fear
And lofty pines their blooming branches rear;
To join the youthful choir's united voice,
And fing of DIAN chafte, whofe care the bow employs?
For lofty Athens must I part,
To fhade the curious veft with nicest art,
To paint MINERVA's glorious car,
Adorn the tapestry with scenes of war,
Or point the forked bolt with flaming rage, On Titans hurl'd, that durft heav'n's awful king engage?
See, blazing fires from hapless Ilion rife,
While clouds of circling fmoke obfcure the skies.
O dire distress! why only am I left,
Of children, parents, brethren, all bereft?
Why thus referv'd a prey to proud domain,
Far hence in foreign lands to drag the galling chain?
An ADDRESS to an ELBOW CHAIR lately new cloathed.
Y dear companion and my faithful friend,
If ORPHEUS taught the lift'ning oaks to bend,
If ftone and rubbish at AMPHION's call
Danc'd into form, and built the Theban wall,
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