Call'd the attends, affifts with artless grace, With fuel laden from the brambly rock, While thus amus'd, and gladden'd with our lot, And many a bleffing follows as we part. A A darker hue the face of nature wears, How many groufe, how many partridge fell. That mock the crowd, with love's fantastic joy; She wanders now to ev'ry vice a prey A A prey to yonder terror of the night, In vain the fhrinks to fhun his lucklefs pace, Aw'd by the terrors of his vengeful face; Heav'n! how unlike the pure, the tranquil fcene, Where rural mirth, and rural manners reign; Where fimple cheer difclaims the cares of wealth, And fresh'ning gales diffuse the glow of health. A Sketch of EDWIN, from the MINSTREL. AND yet poor Edwin was no vulgar boy; Deep thought oft seem'd to fix his infant eye. Dainties he headed not, nor gaude, nor toy, Save one short pipe of rudeft minstrelfy. Silent when glad; affectionate, though fhy; And now his look was most demurely fad, And now he laugh'd aloud, yet none knew why. The neighbours ftar'd and figh'd, yet blefs'd the lad: Some deem'd him wondrous wife, and some believ'd' him mad.` 1 Th' exploit of strength, dexterity, or speed, By trap, or net; by arrow, or by fling; And fure the fylvan reign unbloody joy might yield. THE N Ruffia's frozen clime, fome ages fince, There dwelt, hiftorians fay, a worthy prince, Who to his people's good confin'd his care, And fix'd the bafis of his empire there; Inlarg'd their trade, the lib'ral arts improv❜d, Made nations happy, and himself belov'd; To all the neighb'ring ftates a terror grown, The dear delight, and glory of his own. Not like those kings who vainly feek renown From countries ruin'd, and from battles won; Those mighty Nimrods, who mean laws defpife, . Call murder but a princely exercife, And And if one bloodlefs fun fhould steal away, Cry out with Titus, they have loft a day; Who, to be more than men, themselves debafe Beneath the brute, their Maker's form deface, Raifing their titles by their God's difgrace. Like fame to bold Eroftratus we give, Who fcorn'd by lefs than facrilege to live; On holy ruins rais'd a lafting name, And in the temple's fire diffus'd his shame. Far diff'rent praises, and a brighter fame, The virtues of the young Porfenna claim; For by that name the Ruffian king was known, 'And fure a nobler ne'er adorn'd the throne. In war he knew the deathful sword to wield, And fought the thickeft dangers of the field. A bold commander; but, the ftorm o'erblown, He feem'd as he were made for peace alone; Then was the golden age again reftor'd, Nor lefs his justice honour'd than his fword. All needless pomp and outward grandeur spar'd, The deeds that grac'd him were his only guard No private views beneath a borrow'd name; His and the public int'reft were the fame. In wealth and pleasure let the fubject live, But virtue is the king's prerogative; Porfenna there without a rival stood, And wou'd maintain his right of doing good. Nor did his person lefs attraction wear, Such majefty and sweetness mingled there Heav'n with uncommon art the clay refin'd, A proper mansion for fo fair a mind; ; Each |