Mie love ys dedde, Gonne to hys deathe-bedde, Swote hys tongue as the throstles note, Harke! the ravenne flappes hys wynge, Harke! the dethe-owle loude dothe fynge, Gonne to hys deathe-bedde, See the whyte moone theenes onne hie; Gonne to hys deathe-bedde, Mie love ys dedde, Gonne to hys deathe-bedde, Wythe mie hondes I'll dent the brieres Gonne to hys deathe-bedde, Comme, wythe acorne-coppe and thorne, Daunce bie nete, or feafte by daie. Gonne to hys deathe-bedde, Water wytches, crownede wythe reytes (d), I die; I comme; mie true love waytes. (b) Hair. (c) Complexion. (d) Water-flags. (e) Endeavoured, (S) Freeze. (g) Undismayed. (h) Armed, pointed. $93. Chorus in Godd-wyn, a Tragedie. CHATTERTON, &C. WHAN Freedom, dreste yn blodde-steyned veste, To everie knyghte her warre-fonge funge, Uponne her hedde wylde wedes were spredde; A gorie anlace by her honge. She daunced onne the heathe; She hearde the voice of deathe; Pale-eyned Affryghte, hys harte of filver hue, In vayne affayled(e)her bofom to acale(f);[woe, She hearde onflemed(g)the shriekynge voice of And fadneffe ynne the owlette shake the dale, She fhooke the burled (b) fpeere, On hie the jeste (i) her theelde, Her foemen (j) all appere, And flizze (k) along the feelde. Power, wythe his heafod (1) ftraught (m) ynto the skyes, [itarre. Hys fpeere a fonne-beame, and hys theelde a Alyche (n) twaie (0) brendeyng (1) gronfyres (q) rolls hys eyes, [to war. Chaftes (r) with his yronne feete, and foundes Harde as the thonder dothe the drive ytte on, hys crowne, (ys gon, Hys longe tharpe fpeere, his fpreddyng theelde He falles, andfallynge rolleth thoufandes down. War, goare-faced war, bie envie burld (x), arist (y), Hys feerie heaulme (z) noddynge to the ayre, Tenne bloddie arrowes ynne bys itreynynge fyft. DYER. $94. Grongar Hill. SILENT Nymph! with curious eye, Who, the purple evening, lie On the mountain's lonely van, Beyond the noife of bufy man, Painting fair the form of things, While the yellow linnet fings; Or the tuneful nightingale Charms the foreft with her tale; Come, with all thy various hues, Come, and aid thy fifter Mufe. Now while Phoebus riding high, Gives luftre to the land and fky, Grongar Hill invites my fong, Draw the landscape bright and ftrong; Grongar! in whofe molly cells, Sweetly mufing Quiet dwells; Grongar! in whofe filent fhade, For the modeft Muses made, (n) Like. (i)Hoisted on high, raised. (o) Two. (p) Flaming. (q) Meteors. (t) Mantled, covered; (u) Guides. (r) Armed. (y) Arose. (r) Beats, stamps. (s) Closely. (*) Helmet. So oft I have, the evening ftill, Sat upon a flow'ry bed, With my hand beneath my head, While tray'd my eyes o'er Towy's flood, From houfe to houfe, from hill to hill, About his chequer'd fides I wind, Now I gain the mountain's brow; Old caftles on the cliff's arise, The sturdy oak with broad spread boughs; On which a dark hill, fteep and high, 'Tis now the raven's bleak abode, Huge heaps of hoary moulder'd walls. Yet time has feen, that lifts the low, And fee the rivers, how they run Ever charming, ever new, See on the mountain's southern side, O may I with myself agree, ! Be full, ye courts! be great who will; Search for peace with all your skill, } Open Open wide the lofty door, And often, by the murm'ring rill, $95. A Monody on the Death of his Lady. Ipse cava solans ægrum testudine amorem, AT length efcap'd from ev'ry human eye, From ev'ry duty, ev'ry care, [fhare, That in my mournful thoughts might claim a Or force my tears their flowing stream to dry; Beneath the gloom of this embow`ring fhade, This lone retreat, for tender forrow made, I now may give my burden'd heart relief, And pour forth all my stores of grief; Of grief furpaffing every other woe, Far as the purest blifs, the happiest love, Can on th' ennobled mind bestow, Exceeds the vulgar joys that move Our grofs defires, inelegant and low. Ye tufted groves, ye gently falling rills, Ye high o'erfhadowing hills, Ye lawns gay-finiling with eternal green, Oft have you my Lucy feen! But never fhall you now behold her more: Nor will the now, with fond delight, And tafte refin'd, your rural charms explore. Clos'd are those beauteous eyes in endless night, Thofe beauteous eyes, wherebeaming us dtofhine Oft would the Dryads of these woods rejoice Ye larks and linnets, now refume your fong: For death has stopp'd that tuneful tongue, Nor by yon fountain's fide, Nor where its waters glide Along the valley, can the now be found: In all the wide-ftretch'd prospect's ample No more my mournful eye Can aught of her espy, [bound, But the fad facred earth where her dear relics lie. Ofhades of Hagley, where is now your boast ? And flower-embroider'd vales, Sweet babes! who like the littleplayfulfawns, By your delighted mother's side, [lawns, Who now your infant fteps fhall guide? Ah! where is now the hand, whofe tender care, To everyvirtue would have form'd your youth, And strew'd with flow'rs the thorny ways of truth? O lofs beyond repair! O wretched father! left alone, To weeep their dire misfortune, and thy own! How fhall thy weaken'd mind, opprefs'd with And, drooping o'er thy Lucy's grave, (woe, Perform the duties that you doubly owe, From follyand from vice their helpless age to fave! Where were ye, Muses, when relentless Fate Could not,alas! your power prolong her date; For whom so oft, in thefe infpiring fhades, Or under Camden's mofs-clad mountains hoar, You open'd all your facred store; Whate'er your ancient fages taught, Your ancient bards fublimely thought, Whose music could alone your warbling notes And bade her raptur'd breaft with all your spirit In vain I look round, O'er all the well-known ground, [excel. My Lucy's wonted footfteps to defcry; Where oft in tender talk We faw the fummer fun go down the sky; glow? Nor then did Pindus or Caftalia's plain, Or Aganippe's fount, your fteps detain, Nor in the Thespian valleys did you play; Nor then on Mincio's bank Beset with ofier's dank, Nor where Clitumnus* rolls his gentle Nor where, through hanging woods, That, of your guardian care bereft, To dire diftafe and death your darling fhould be left. Now what avails it, that in early bloom, Are all her fex's joys, With you the fearch'd the wit of Greece And all that in her latter days, Bright Sparkling could infpire, Moft favour'd with your finile, Of all those treasures that enrich'd her mind, To black Oblivion's gloom for ever now confign'd! At least, ye Nine, her spotless name But foremost thou, in fable vestment clad, To every want, and every woe, To guilt itfelf when in diftreis, The balm of pity would impart; And all relief that bounty could bestow! E'en for the kid or lamb, that pour'd its life Beneath the bloody knife, [to all. Her gentle tears would fall; But ftrong and elevated was her mind; On Fortune's fmile or frown; All pleafing fhone; nor ever pass'd Death came remorfelefs on, and funk her to the But, in the midst of all its blooming pride, Tell how her manners, by the worldre fin'd,The Tell how to more than manly fense How,in the thoughtless days of wealth and joy, Cold with perpetual fnows; [and dies. To the foft notes of elegant defire, Was fpread the fame of thy difaft'rous love; The Clitumnus is a river of Umbria, the residence of Propertius. The Anio runs through Tibur or Tivoli, where Horace had a villa. The Meles is a river of Ionia, from whence Homer, supposed to be born on its banks, is called. Mellisigenes. The Blissus is a river at Athens. And And teach my forrows to relate She never bore a share, Would heal thy wounded heart Of every fecret grief that fefter'd there: Nor did her fond affection on the bed Offickness watch thee,and thy languidhead Whole nights on her unwearied arm fuftain, And charm away the fenfe of pain: Nor did the crown your mutual flame With pledges dear, and with a father's tender For my distracted mind On whom for confolation fhall I call? My dear departed love, fo much was thine, Are now with your idea fadden'd all: We were the happiest pair of human kind: O fatal, fatal stroke! That all this pleafing fabric Love had rais'd Of rare felicity, On which even wanton Vice with envy gaz'd, And every schemeof blissourheartshadform'd, With foothing hope for many a future day, In one fad moment broke! Yet, O my foul! thy rifing murmurs stay; Nor dare th'all-wife Difpofer to arraign, Or against his fupreme decree With impious grief complain, That allthy full-blown joys atoncefhould fade, Was his moit righteous will-and be that will obey'd. Would thy fond love his grace to bercontroul, Unjustly, for thy partial good, detain? That heavenly radiance of eternal light, Is every mortal bliss? Even Love itfelt, if rifing by degrees Beyond the bounds of this imperfect state, Whofe fleeting joys fo foon muft end, It does not to its fovereign good ascend. Rise then, my soul, with hope elate, And feek thofe regions of ferene delight, Whofe peaceful path, and ever-open gate, No feet but those of harden'd Guilt shall miss: There Death himself thy Lucy shall restore; There yield up all his pow'r ne'er to divide you Prefs'd her baby to her bofom, and fadly thus did "Oh! cruel was my father, that shut his door [could fee; And cruel was my mother, that fuch a fight And cruel is the wint'ry wind, that chills my heart with cold; [for gold! But crueller than all, the lad that left my love Hush, hush, my lovely baby, and warm thee in [diftreft! my breaft; Ah, little thinks thy father how fadly we're For, cruel as he is, did he know but how we fare, He'd fhield us in his arms from this bitter piercing air. Cold,cold mydearest jewel! thy little life is gone: Oh let my tears revive thee, fo warm that trickle [they fall: down: My tears that gufh so warm, oh they freeze before Ah wretched, wretched mother! thou 'rt now bereft of all." Then down she funk despairing upon the drift[loud her woe: ed fnow, And, wrung with killing anguish, lamented She kifs'd her babe's pale lips, and laid it by her fide; Then cait her eyes to heaven, then bow'd her head, and died. |