Virtue and fenfe I mean not to disjoin;

Virtue and fenfe are one: and trust me, he
Who has not virtue is not truly wise.
Virtue (for mere good-nature is a fool)
Is fenfe and fpirit, with humanity:

Armstrong.

'Tis fometimes angry, and its frown confounds; 'Tis even vindictive, but in vengeance just.

Knaves fain would laugh at it; fome great ones dare;

But at his heart the most undaunted fon

Of fortune dreads its name and awful charms.
To nobleft ufes this determines wealth:
This is the folid pomp of profperous days:
The peace and fhelter of adverfity.
And if you pant for glory, build your fame
On this foundation, which the fecret fhock
Defies of Envy and all-fapping Time.
The gaudy glofs of Fortune only strikes
The vulgar eye: The fuffrage of the wife
The praife, that's worth ambition, is attain'd
By fenfe alone, and dignity of mind,

Virtue the ftrength and beauty of the foul
Is the best gift of heaven: a happiness
That even above the fmiles and frowns of fate
Exalts great Nature's favourites; a wealth
That ne'er encumbers, nor to bafer hands
Can be transferred: it his the only good
Man justly boasts of, or can call his own.
Riches are oft by guilt and bafenefs earn'd;
Or dealt by chance, to fhield a lucky knave.
Or throw a cruel fun-fhine on a fool.
But for one end, one much-neglected ufe,
Are riches worth your care (for Nature's wants
Are few, and without opulence fupplied)

Armstrong., This noble end is, to produce the foul:
To fhew the virtues in their fairest light;
To make Humanity the Minister

Of bounteous Providence; and teach the breaft
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 (ftrange to tell!) he practis'd what he preach'd.

"

So%

Somervile.

Somervile.

William Somervile, (geb. 1692; gest. 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 asopischen Fabel; in keiner aber mit so glücklichem Erfolg, als im Lehrgedichte, zu dessen Inhalte er die Jagd wählte, die er im frühern Theile seines Lebens eifrig betrieb, und im spatern mit desto mehr Kenntniß 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 Jagden vorausges schickt, und dann von der Wahl, Wartung und Verschie denheit der Jagdhunde gehandelt; in den beiden folgenden geht der Dichter die mancherlei Arten der Jagd, in Ansehung des Wildes, und des Verfahrens verschiedner Nationen, durch: und in dem lezten Buche trågt er noch verschiedne Jägervorschriften 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 Verdienst ist nicht geringe, welches es durch Lebhaftigkeit des Tons, durch Abwechselung der Gegenstände, durch Schönheit der Bilder und des Vortra ges, und durch leichte Verbindung der Theile, erhalten hat.

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

1

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

Inwardly fmiling, the proud farmer views.

The rifing pyramids that grace his yard,

And counts his large increase: his barns are ftor'd,

And

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

In the rough briftly ftubbles range unblam'd.
No widow's tears o'erflow, no fecret curfe
Swells in the farmer's breaft, 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, fome kind Pow'r invisible!
To that extended lawn, where the gay court
View the fwift racers, ftretching 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 thofe fpacious plains, where the ftrain'd
eye

In the wide profpect loft, beholds at last
Sarum's proud fpire, that o'er the hills afcends,
And pierces thro' the clouds; or to thy downs,

Fair Coltfwold! 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 fee thy purple mantle spread
O'er half the fkies; gems pave thy radiant way,
And orient pearls from ev'ry fhrub depend.
Farewell, Cleora! here, deep funk in down,
Slumber fecure with happy dreams amus'd,
Till grateful fteams fhall tempt thee to receive
Thy early meal, or thy officious maids,
The toilette plac'd, fhall 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 courfer hears their voice: fee there! with ears

And

And tail erect, neighing he paws the ground:
Fierce rapture kindles in his redd'ning eyes,
And boils in ev'ry vein. As captive boys,
Cow'd by the ruling rod and haughty frowns
Of pedagogues fevere, from their hard tafks
If once dismifs'd, no limits can contain
The tumult rais'd within their little breafts,
But give a loose to all their frolic play;
So from their Kennel rufh the joyous pack;
A thousand wanton gaieties expreís
Their inward ecftafy, their pleafing fport
Once more indulg'd, and liberty reftor'd.
The rifing fun, that o'er th' horizon peeps,
As many colours from their glofy fkins
Beaming reflects, as paint the various bow,
When April fhow'rs defcend. Delightful fcene!
Where all around is gay, men, horfes, dogs,
And in each smiling countenance appears
Fresh-blooming health and universal joy.

Huntsman! lead on; lehind the cluft'ring
pack

Submifs attend, hear with refpect thy whip
Loud-clanging, and thy harfher voice obey.
Spare not the ftraggling eur, that wildly roves,
But let thy brifk assistant on his back
Imprint thy juft refentments; let each lafh
Bite to the quick, till howling he return,
And whining creep amid the trembling croud.

Here on this verdant fpot, where Nature
kind

With double bleffings crowns the farmer's hopes,
Where flow'rs autumnal fpring, and the rank mead
Affords the wand'ring hares a rich repast,

Throw off thy ready pack. See where thy
1pread,

And range around, and dafh the glitt❜ring dew!
If fome ftanch hound with his authentic voice
Ávow the recent trail, the joftling tribe

At

Somervile