Virtue and sense I mean not to disjoin;

Armstrong
Virtue and senle are one: and trust me, lie
Who has not virtue is not truly wise.
Virtue (for mere good - nature is a fool)
Is sense and spirit, with humanity:
'Tis sometimes angry, and its frown confounds;
»Tis even vindi&tive, but in vengeance just.
Knaves fain would laugh at it; some great ones

dare;
But at his heart the most undaunted son
Of fortune dreads its name and awful charms.'
To noblest uses this determines wealth:
This is the solid pomp of prosperous days:
The peace and shelter of adversity.
And if you pant for glory, build your fame
On this foundation, which the secret shock
Defies of Envy and all - fapping Time.
The gaudy gloss of Fortune only strikes
The vulgar eye: The fuffrage of the wise
The praise that's worth ambition, is attain'd
By sense alone, and dignity of mind,
Virtue the strength and beauty of the soul
Is the best gift of heaven: a happiness
That even above the smiles and frowns of fate
Exalts great Nature's favourites; a wealth
That ne'er encumbers, nor to baser hands
Can be transferred: it his the only good
Man juftly boasts of, or can call his own.
Riches are oft by guilt and bafenels earn'd;
Or dealt by chance, to fhield a lucky knave.
Or throw a cruel fun - shine on a fool.
but for one end, one much-neglected use,
Are riches worth your care (for Nature's wants
Are few, and without opulence supplied)
K 5

This

Armstrong., This noble end is, to produce the soul:

To fhew the virtues in their fairelt light;
To make Humanity the Minister
Of bounteous Providence; and teach the breast
That generous luxury the Gods enjoy
Thus, in his graver vein, the friendly Sage
Sometimes declaim'd. Of Right and Wrong he

taught
Truths as refin'd as ever Athens heard :
And (strange to tell!) he practis'd what he

preach'd.

Som e rv i le.

Somervile.

William Somervile , (geb. 1692; geft. 1743;) ein angesehener englischer Landedelmann und Friedensrichter, und ein eifriger Liebhaber der schönen Literatur.

Er vers suchte sich in mehrern Dichtungsarten, besonders auch in der dopischen Fabel; in keiner aber mit so glücklichen Erfolg, als im Lehrgedichte, ju dessen Inhalte er die Jagd wählte, die er im frühern Cheile reines Lebens eifrig betrieb, und im spätern mit desto mehr Stenntniß besang. Dieß Gedicht, The Chase, ist in reimlosen Jamben geschrieben, und besteht aus vier Büchern. In dem ersten wird eine kurze Geschich: te von dem Ursprunge und Fortgange der Jagoen vorausges fchickt, und dann von der Wahl, Wartung und Verschies, denheit der Jagdhunde gehandelt; in den beiden folgenden geht der Dichter die mancherlei Arten der Jagd, in Anses hung des Wildes, und des Verfahrens verschiedner Natios nen, durch: und in dem leşten Buche trågt er noch verschieds ne Jågervorschriften nach, die größtentheils wieder die Jagdhunde betreffen. Sachverständige geben, wie Dr. Johnson bemerkt, diesem Gedichte das Zeugniß, daß es durchgehends mit sehr richtiger Einsicht geschrieben sey; aber auch das poetische Verdienft ist nicht geringe, welches es durch Lebhaftigkeit des Cons, durch Abwechselung der Gegenstände, durch Schönheit der Bilder und des Vortras ges, und durch leichte Verbindung der Cheile, erbalten hat.

THE CHASE; B. II, v. 51-297.

Now golden Autumn from her open lap
Her fragrant bounties show'rs; the fields are

Chorn:
Inwardly smiling, the proud farmer views
The rising pyramids that grace his yard,
And counts his large increase: his barns are stor’d,

And

Somervile: And groaning staddles bend beneath their load.
-ག་ All now is free as air, and the grey pack

In the rough briftly stubbles range unblam'd.
No widow's tears o'erflow, no secret curle
Swells in the farmer's breast, which his pale lips
Trembling conceal, by his fierce landlord aw'd ;
But courteous now he levels ev'ry fence,
Joins in the common cry, and halloos loud,
Charm'd with the ratt'ling thunder of the field.
Oh! bear me, some kind Pow'r invisible!
To that extended lawn, where the gay court
View the swift racers, stretching to the goal,
Games more renown'd, and a far nobler train,
Than proud Elean fields could boast of old;
Oh! were a Theban lyre not wanting here,
And Pindar's voice, to do their 'merit right;
Or to those spacious plains, where the strain'd

eye
In the wide prospect loft, beholds at last
Sarum's proud fpire, that o'er the hills ascends,
And pierces thro' the clouds; or to thy downs,
Fair Coltswold! where the well - breath'd beagle

climbs,
With matchless speed; the green- aspiring brow,
And leaves the lagging multitude behind.

Hail, gentle Dawn! mild blushing goddess,

hail!
Rejoic'd I see thy purple mantle spread
O’er half the skies; gems pave thy radiant way,
And orient pearls from ev'ry 1 hrub depend.
Farewell, Cleora! here, deep sunk in down,
Slumber secure with happy dreams amus'd,
Till grateful steams shall tempt thee to receive
Thy early meal, or thy officious maids,
The toilette plac'd, shall urge thee to perform
Th' important work. 'Me other joys invite;
The horn fonorous calls, the pack awak'd
Their matins chaunt, nor brook my long delay;
My courser hears their voice : see there! with ears

And

Somerviles

And tail erect, neighing he paws the ground:
Fierće rapture kindles in his redd’ning cyes,
And boils in ev'ry vein. As captive boys,
Cow'd by the ruling rod and haughty frowns
Of pedagogues fevere, from their hard tasks
If once dismiss’d, no limits can contain
The tumult rais'd within their little breasts,
But give a loose to all their frolic play;
So from their Kennel rush the joyous pack;
A thousand wanton gaieties express
Their inward ecstasy, their pleasing sport
Once more indulg'd, and liberty restor’d.
The rising sun, that o'er th' horizon peeps,
As many colours from their glory 1 kins
Beaming reflects, as paint the various bow,
When April show'rs descend. Delightful scene!
Where all around is gay, men, horles, dogs,
And in each smiling countenance appears
Fresh-blooming health and universal joy.

Huntsman! lead on; lehind the clust'ring

pack
Submiss attend, hear with respect thy whip
Loud-clanging, and thy harsher voice obey.
Spare not the

straggling eur, that wildly roves,
But let thy brisk assistant on his back
Imprint thy just resentments; let each lash
Bite to the quick, till howling he return,
And whining creep amid the trembling croud.

Here on this verdant spot, where Nature

kind
With double blessings crowns the farmer's hopes,
Where flow'rs autumnal spring, and the rank mead
Affords the wand'ring hares a rich repast,
Throw. off thy ready pack. See where thy

spread,
And range around, and dash the glittring dew!
If some stanch hound with his authentic voice
Avow the recent trail, the joftling tribe

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