ELEGY

To an

IV.

OFFICER.

Written at Rome, 1756.

ROM Latian fields, the manfions of Renown,

FROM Latian the God his fated feat

Where fix'd the Warrior God his fated feat;

Where infant Heroes learnt the martial frown,
And little hearts for genuine glory beat;

What for my friend, my foldier, fhall I frame?
What nobly-glowing verfe that breathes of arms,
To point his radiant path to deathlefs fame,
By great examples, and terrific charms ?

Quirinus firft, with bold, collected bands,

The finewy fons of ftrength, for empire ftrove;
Beneath his thunder bow'd th' astonish'd lands,
And temples rofe to Mars, and to Feretrian Jove.

War

War taught contempt of death, contempt of pain,
And hence the Fabii, hence the Decii come :
War urg'd the flaughter, tho' fhe wept the flain,
Stern War, the rugged nurfe of virtuous Rome.

But not from antique fables will I draw,

To fire thy feeling foul, a dubious aid,

Tho' now, ev'n now, they strike with rev'rent awe,
By Poets or Hiftorians facred made.

Nor yet to thee the babling Muse shall tell

What mighty Kings with all their legions wrought, What cities funk, and ftoried nations fell

When Cæfar, Titus, or when Trajan fought,

From private worth, and Fortune's private ways
Whilft o'er yon hill th' exalted a
Trophy fhows
To what vaft heights of incorrupted praise
The great, the self-ennobled Marius rofe.

From steep Arpinum's rock-invested shade,
From hardy Virtue's emulative school
His daring flight th' expanding Genius made,
And by obeying nobly learnt to rule.

Abash'd, confounded, ftern Iberia groan'd,
And Afric trembled to her utmost coafts;
When the proud land its deftin'd Conqueror own'd
In the new Conful, and his veteran hofts.

a The trophies of Marius, now erected before the Capitol.

Yet Chiefs are madmen, and Ambition weak,
And mean the joys the laurel'd harvests yield,
If Virtue fail. Let Fame, let Envy speak

Of Capfa's walls, and Sextia's watry field.

But fink for ever, in oblivion caft,

Dishonest triumphs, and ignoble spoils. Minturnæ's Marsh feverely paid at last

The guilty glories gain'd in civil broils.

Nor yet his vain contempt the Muse shall praise
For scenes of polish'd life, and letter'd worth;
The fteel-rib'd Warrior wants not Envy's ways
To darken theirs, or call his merits forth,

Witness yon Cimbrian Trophies !- Marius, there
Thy ample pinion found a space to fly ;
As the plum'd eagle foaring fails in air,
In upper air, and scorns a middle sky.

Thence too thy country claim'd thee for her own,
And bade the Sculptor's toil thy acts adorn,
To teach in characters of living stone

Eternal leffons to the youth unborn.

For wifely Rome her warlike Sons rewards

With the sweet labours of her Artists' hands;

He wakes her Graces, who her empire guards,

And both Minervas join in willing bands.

O why,

O why, Britannia, why untrophied pass
The patriot deeds thy godlike Sons display,
Why breathes on high no monumental brass,
Why fwells no Arc to grace Culloden's Day?

Wait we till faithlefs France fubmiffive bow
Beneath that Hero's delegated fpear,

Whofe light'ning fmote Rebellion's haughty brow,
And fcatter'd her vile rout with horror in the rear?

O Land of Freedom, Land of Arts, affume

That graceful dignity thy merits claim; Exalt thy Heroes like imperial Rome,

And build their virtues on their love of fame.

So fhall the modeft worth, which checks my friend,
Forget its blufh when rous'd by Glory's charms;
From breast to breast the generous warmth descend,
And ftill new trophies rise, at once, to Arts, and Arms,

ELEGY V.

Το

a

FRIEND Sick.

'T

Written at Rome, 1756.

b

WAS in this ifle, O Wright indulge my lay,

Whofe naval form divides the Tuscan flood,

In the bright dawn of her illustrious day

Rome fix'd her Temple to the healing God.

Here ftood his altars, here his arm he bared,
And round his myftic staff the ferpent twin'd,
Through crowded portals hymns of praise were heard,
And victims bled, and facred feers divin'd.

On every breathing wall, on every round

Of column, fwelling with proportion'd grace,

Its ftated feat fome votive tablet found,

And ftoried wonders dignified the place.

The Infula Tiberina, where there are still some small remains

of the famous temple of Æfculapius.

Oft