E glitt'ring Train! whom lace and velvet blefs,
Sufpend the foft folicitudes of drefs;
From grov'ling bufinefs and fuperfluous care,
Ye fons of Avarice! a moment fpare:
Vot'ries of Fame, and worshipers of Pow'r!
Difmifs the pleafing phantoms for an hour.
Our daring Bard, with fpirit unconfin'd,
Spreads wide the mighty moral for mankind.
Learn here how Heav'n fupports the virtuous mind,
Daring, though calm; and vig'rous, though refign'd.
Learn here what anguifh racks the guilty breaft,
In pow'r dependent, in fuccefs depreft.
Learn here that Peace from Inocence muft flow;
All elfe is empty found and idle fhow.
If truths like these with pleafing language join;
Ennobled, yet unchang'd, if Nature shine;
If no wild draught depart from Reason's rules,
Nor gods his heroes, nor his lovers fools;
Intriguing Wits! his artless plot forgive;
And fpare him, Beauties! though his lovers live.
Be this at least his praife, be this his pride;
To force applaufe no modern arts are try'd.
Should partial cat-calls all his hopes confound,
He bids no trumpet quell the fatal found.
Should welcome fleep relieve the weary wit,
He rolls no thunders o'er the drowsy pit.
No fnares to captivate the judgement fpreads;
Nor bribes your eyes to prejudice your heads.
Unmov'd though Witlings fneer and Rivals rail;
Studious to please, yet not asham'd to fail.
He fcorns the meek addrefs, the fuppliant ftrain,
With merit needlefs, and without it vain.
In Reason, Nature, Truth, he dares to truft:
Ye Fops, be filent; and ye Wits, be just!
ND is it thus Demetrius meets his friend,
Hid in the mean disguise of Turkish robes, With fervile fecrecy to lurk in shades,
And vent our fuff'rings in clandeftine groans?
Till breathless fury refted from deftruction,
Thefe groans were fatal, thefe difguifes vain:
But now our Turkish conquerors have quench'd
Their rage, and pall'd their appetite of murder;
No more the glutted fabre thirsts for blood,
And weary cruelty remits her tortures.
Yet Greece enjoys no gleam of tranfient hope,
No foothing interval of peaceful forrow;
The luft of gold fucceeds the rage of conqueft,
The luft of gold, unfeeling and remorseless,
The laft corruption of degenerate man!
Urg'd by th' imperious foldier's fierce command, The groaning Greeks break up their golden caverns Pregnant with ftores that India's mines might envy, Th'accumulated wealth of toiling ages.
That wealth, too facred for their country's ufe!
That wealth, too pleafing to be loft for freedom!
That wealth, which, granted to their weeping prince,
Had rang'd embattled nations at our gates,
But, thus referv'd to lure the wolves of Turkey!
Adds fhame to grief, and infamy to ruin.
Lamenting Av'rice now too late discovers
Her own neglected, in the publick safety.
Reproach not mifery.-The fons of Greece,
Ill-fated race! fo oft befieg'd in vain,
With falfe fecurity beheld invafion.
Why should they fear?-That pow'r that kindly
The clouds, a fignal of impending fhow'rs,
To warn the wand'ring linnet to the shade,
Beheld without concern expiring Greece,
And not one prodigy foretold our fate.
A thousand horrid prodigies foretold it."
A feeble government, eluded laws,
A factious populace, luxurious nobles,
And all the maladies of finking ftates.
When publick Villainy, too ftrong for juftice,
Shews his bold front, the harbinger of ruin,
Can brave Leontius call for airy wonders,
Which cheats interpret, and which fools regard?
When fome neglected fabrick nods beneath.
The weight of years, and totters to the tempeft;
Muft Heav'n difpatch the meffengers of light,
Or wake the dead to warn us of its fall?
Well might the weakness of our empire fink
Before fuch foes of more than human force;
Some Pow'r invifible, from Heav'n or Hell,
Conducts their armies, and afferts their cause.
And yet, my friend, what miracles were wrought
Beyond the pow'r of conftancy and courage?
Did unrefifted lightning aid their cannon?
Did roaring whirlwinds fweep us from the ramparts? 'Twas vice that shook our nerves, 'twas vice, Leontius, That froze our veins, and wither'd all our pow'rs.
Whate'er our crimes, our woes demand compaffion.
Each night, protected by the friendly darkness,
Quitting my clofe retreat, I range the city,
And, weeping, kifs the venerable ruins:
With filent pangs I view the tow'ring domes,
Sacred to pray'r, and wander thro' the streets;
Where commerce lavifh'd unexhaufted plenty,
And jollity mantain'd eternal revels.—
-How chang'd, alas !-Now ghaftly defolation
In triumph fits upon our fhattered spires;
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