That Neptune's self the bragging vessel saves To laugh awhile at her so proud array:

Her waving streamers loosely she lets play,

That with their colours shine as bright as smiling day.

As when the powerful wind and adverse tide

(Giles.)

Strive which should most command the subject main ; The scornful waves swelling with angry pride Yielding to neither, all their force disdain : Meantime the shaking vessel doubtful plays, And on the stagg'ring billow trembling plays,

And would obey them both, yet neither she obeys.

(Phineas.)

The garden like a lady fair was cut,

That lay as if she slumber'd in delight, And to the open skies her eyes did shut:

The azure field of heaven, in semblance right Was a large circle set with flowers of light; The flower-de-luce, and the bright drops of dew That hung upon the azure leaves, all shew

Like twinkling stars that sparkle in the heav'ns so blue.

Upon a lofty bank her head she cast,

On which was built the bower of Vain-delight; White and red roses for her face were plac'd,

And for her tresses marigolds so bright,

Which broadly she display'd t' attract the sight, 'Till in the ocean the glad day was drown'd: Then up again her yellow locks she wound,

That with green fillets in their pretty cauls were bouud.

(Giles.)

The flowers that frighted with sharp winter's dread,
Retire into their mother Tellus' womb,
Yet in the spring in troops new mustered
Peep out again from their unfrozen tomb :
The early violet will fresh arise,

And spreading his flowr'd purple to the skies,
Boldly the little elf the winter's spite defies.

The hedge, green satin prick'd and cut, arrays;
The heliotrope, to cloth of gold aspires;
In hundred-colour'd silks the tulip plays;
Th'imperial flower, his neck with pearl attires;
The lily, high her silver grogram rears;

The pansy, her wrought velvet garment bears ;
The red rose, scarlet, and the provence, damask wears.
(Phineas.)

So Philomel, perch'd on an aspen sprig

Weeps all the night her lost virginity;
And sings her sad tale to the restless twig,
That dances at such joyful misery :
Nor ever lets sweet sleep invade her eye,
But leaning on a thorn her dainty chest,
For fear soft sleep should steal into her breast,
Expresses in her song grief not to be exprest.

The cheerful lark, mounting from early bed,

(Giles.)

With sweet salutes awakes the drowsy light; The earth she leaves, and up to heaven is fled;" There chants her maker's praises out of sight. Earth seems a mole-hill, men but ants to be; Teaching vain men, that soar to high degree, The further up they climb, the less they seem and see. (Phineas.)

That heavenly voice I more delight to hear,
Than gentle airs that breathe; or swelling waves
That 'gainst the sounding rocks their bosoms tear;
Or whistling reeds that Jordan's river laves,
And with their verdure his white head embraves;
Than chiding winds; or roving bees that fly
About the laughing blooms of sallowy,
Rocking asleep the lazy drones that thereon lie.

(Giles.)

Great power of love! with what commanding fire
Dost thou inflame the world's wide regiment,
And kindly heat in every heart inspire!

Nothing is free from thy sweet government:

Fish burn in seas; beasts, birds, thy weapons prove; By thee dead elements and heavens move;

Which void of sense themselves, yet are not void of love.

(Phineas.) Non nostrum inter vos tantas componere lites, Et vitula tu dignus, et hic!

We fear our readers may be cloyed with these sweets, but it is a duty we have undertaken to exhibit the native poets of Kent to advantage, and notwithstanding the restrictions we had thought right formerly to impose on ourselves, repeated perusal of the longer poem of Phineas, forbids us to leave it without further extending our selections. The "Purple Island" is but little visited by poetic ramblers: it has a forbidding aspect, and few will be tempted to seek for flowers among its frowning rocks and rugged promontories. Yet does it abound with the choicest specimens, and if we may venture to anticipate judgment, we predict that by offering to them the following garland, we shall be entitled to the thanks of all true lovers of the muse.

Day-break:

The morning fresh, dappling her horns with roses,-
Vex'd at the ling'ring shades that long had left her
In Tithon's freezing arms,-the light discloses;

And chasing night, of rule and heaven bereft her:
The sun with gentle beams his rage disguises,
And like aspiring tyrants temporises,

Never to be endur'd, but when he falls or rises.

The hours had now unlock'd the gates of day,
When fair Aurora leaves her frosty bed,
Hasting with youthful Cephalus to play,
Unmask'd her face, and rosy beauties spread:
Tithonus' silver age was much despis'd,—

Ah! who in love that cruel law devis'd,

That old love's little worth, and new too highly priz'd.

Evening.

But see, the smoke mounting in village nigħ,
With folded wreaths steals through the quiet air;
And mix'd with dusky shades in eastern sky,
Begins the night, and warns us home repair:
Bright vesper now hath chang'd his name and place,
And twinkles in the heaven with doubtful face;
Home then, my full fed lambs; the night comes, home
apace !

See Phlegon drenched in the liquid main,

Allays his thirst, and cools his flaming car!

Vesper fair Cynthia ushers, and her train :

See, th' apish earth hath lighted many a star,

Sparkling in dewy globes!-all home invite.

Home then my flocks, home shepherds, home, 'tis night

But see the stealing night with softest pace,
To fly the western sun creeps up the east:
Cold Hesper 'gins unmask his ev'ning face,

And calls the winking stars from drowsy rest.
Home then my lambs;-the falling drops eschew,
To-morrow shall ye feast in pastures new.

The Medway joining Thames.

So where fair Medway down the Kentish dales
To many towns her pleasant waters dealing,
Lading her banks into wide Thamis falls,

The big swoln main with foamy billows swelling,
Stops there the sudden stream: her steady race
Staggers awhile, at length flows back apace,
And to the parent fount returns its fearful pace.

A Flower fainting with heat.

So have I often seen a purple flow'r

Fainting with heat, hang down her drooping head,
But soon refreshed with a welcome show'r,
Begin again her lively beauties spread,

And with new pride her silken leaves display :
And while the sun doth now more gently play,
Lay out her swelling bosom to the smiling day.

Storm in Summer.

So when the sun shines in bright Taurus' head,
Returning tempests all with winter fill;
And still successive storms fresh mustered,
The timely year in his first springing kill:
And oft it breathes awhile,--then strait again
Doubly pours out his spite in smoking rain:

The country's vows and hopes swim on the drowned plain !