Stands but to fall reveng'd on those that dare So fares the fag, among th' enraged hounds, In troops furround, now these affails, now thofe, Tho' prodigal of life, difdains to die By common hands; but if he can descry Which was, or should have been at least, the last. Runny-Mead, where that Great Charter was first fealed. † Magna Charta. • Who gives constrain'd, but his own fear reviles, Not thank'd, but fcorn'd; nor are they gifts, but spoils. Thus kings, by grafping more than they could hold, First made their fubjects, by oppreffion, bold; And popular fway, by forcing kings to give More than was fit for fubjects to receive, Ran to the fame extremes; and one excess Made both, by ftriving to be greater, lefs. When a calm river rais'd with fudden rains, Or fnows diffolv'd, o'erflows th' adjoining plains, The husbandmen, with high-rais'd banks, fecure Their greedy hopes, and this he can endure : But if with bays and dams they strive to force His channel to a new or narrow courfe; No longer then within his banks he dwells, First to a torrent, then a deluge fwells; Stronger and fiercer, by reftraint he roars, And knows no bound, but makes his pow'r his shores. WRITTEN IN THE WOOD NEAR R CASTLE, M BCC LXII. BY MR. MICKLE. Hæc Jovem fentire, Deofque cunctos. Spem bonam certamque domum reporto. HE peaceful evening breathes her balmy store, ΤΗ The playful school-boys wanton o'er the green: Where fpreading poplars fhade the cottage-door, HOR. *It has been often faid, that Fiction is the moft proper field for poetry. If it is always fo, the writer of this little piece acknowledges it is a circumstance against him. The following Ode was first fuggefted, and the ideas contained in it raised, on revifiting the ruins and woods that had been the fcene of his early amufements, with a deferving brother who died in his twenty-first year. Amid the fecret windings of the wood, With folemn Meditation let me ftray; This is the hour when, to the wife and good, The heavenly maid repays the toils of day. The river murmurs, and the breathing gale How bright, emerging o'er yon broom-clad height, Yon limpid pool reflects a stream of light, The waters tumbling o'er their rocky bed, Solemn and conftant, from yon dell refound; The lonely hearths blaze o'er the distant glade; The bat, low-wheeling, fkims the dusky ground. Auguft and hoary, o'er the floping dale, The Gothick abbey rears it's fculptur'd towers; Dull through the roofs resounds the whistling gale, Dark Solitude among the pillars lours, Where yon old trees bend o'er a place of graves, There oft, at dawn, as one forgot behind, High o'er the pines, that with their darkening shade So, midst the fnow of age, a boastful air Still on the war-worn veteran's brow attends; Still his big bones his youthful prime declare, Tho' trembling o'er the feeble crutch he bends. Wild round the gates the dusky wall-flowers creep, Where oft the knights the beauteous dames have led ; Gone is the bower, the grot a ruin'd heap, Where bays and ivy o'er the fragments fpread. 'Twas here our fires, exulting from the fight, Great in their bloody arms, march'd o'er the lea, Eying their rescu'd fields with proud delight! Now loft to them!—and, ah! how chang'd to me! This bank, the river, and the fanning breeze, So fhone the moon through these foft nodding trees, When April's fmiles the flowery lawn adorn, When fragrant orchards to the roseate morn Unfold their bloom, in heaven's own colours dy'd: So fair a bloffom gentle Pollio were, These were the emblems of his healthful mind; To him the letter'd page difplay'd it's lore, Him, with her pureft flames the Mufe endow'd, In all her charms; he saw, he felt, and dy'd. Oh, partner of my infant griefs and joys! Big with the scenes now paft, my heart o'erflows Oft with the rifing fun, when life was new, The fainted well, where yon bleak hill declines, For thou art gone. My guide, my friend! oh, where, My tenderest wish, my heart to thee was bare, How dreary is the gulph! how dark, how void, Wide round the spacious heavens I cast my eyes : Still shine the lifeless glories of the skies! And could thy bright, thy living foul expire! Far |