Gideon's actions, as they fhin'd
Bright in the chambers of your mind!
Say, have you trod Arabia's spicy vales,

Or gather'd bays befide Euphrates' ftream,
Or lonely fung with Jordan's water-falls,

While heavenly Gideon was your facred theme. Or have you many ages given

To clofe retirement and to books! And held a long difcourfe with Heaven,

And notic'd Nature in her various looks!

Full of infpiring wonder and delight,

Slow read I Gideon with a greedy eye! Like a pleas'd traveller that lingers fweet On fome fair and lofty plain

Where the fun does brightly fhine,

And glorious profpects all around him lie!
On Gideon's pages beautifully shine,

Surprizing pictures rifing to my fight,

With all the life of colours and of line,

And all the force of rounding fhade and light, And all the grace of fomething more divine! High on a hill, beneath an oak's broad arm, I fee a youth divinely fair,

"Penfive he leans his head on his left hand;

His fmiling eye sheds sweetness mix'd with awe, "His right hand, with a milk-white wand, fome figure "feems to draw!

A nameless grace is scatter'd through his air, "And o'er his fhoulders loofely flows his amber

"colour'd hair!"

Above, with burning blush the morning glows,
The waking world all fair before him lies ;,
"Slow from the plain the melting dews,

"To kifs the fun-beams, climbing, rife," &c, Methinks the grove of Baal I fee,

In terrass'd ftages mount up high,

And wave its fable beauties in the sky,

"From ftage to age, broad keps of half-hid stone, "With curling mofs and blady grafs o'ergrown, "Lead awful

Down in a dungeon deep,

"Where through thick walls, oblique, the broken light "From narrow loop-holes quivers to the fight, "With fwift and furious ftride,

"Clofe-folded arms, and short and sudden starts, "The fretful prince, in dumb and fullen pride, "Revolves efcape

Here in red colours glowing bold,

A warlike figure strikes my eye!

The dreadful fudden fight his foes behold Confounded fo, they lose the power to fly; "Backening they gaze at distance on his face, "Admire his pofture, and confefs his grace; "His right hand grafps his planted spear," &c. Alas! my Mufe, through much good-will, you erra And we the mighty author greatly wrong;

To gather beauties here and there,

As but a fcatter'd few there were,

While every word 's a beauty in his fong!

[Thofe lines in this Poem marked thus are taken out of the Poem called GIDEON.]

THE

THE CHOICE.

To Mr. DYER. By AARON HILL, ESQ.

WHILE, charm'd with Aberglasney's quiet plains,

The Mufes, and their Emprefs, court your strains,

Tir'd of the noify town, fo lately try'd,
Methinks, I fee you fmile, on Towy's fide!
Penfive, her mazy wanderings you unwind,
And, on your river's margin, calm your mind.
Oh!-greatly blefs'd-whate'er your fate requires,
Your ductile wifdom tempers your defires!
Balanc'd within, you look abroad ferene,

And, marking both extremes, país clear between.
Oh! could your lov'd example teach your skill,
And, as it moves my wonder, mend my will
Calm would my paffions grow ;-my lot would please;
And my fick foul might think itself to ease!
But, to the future while I ftrain my eye,
Each prefent good flips, undiftinguish'd, by.
Still, what I would, contends with what I can,
And my wild wishes leap the bounds of man.
If in my power it lies to limit hope,

And my unchain'd defires can fix a scope,

This were my Choice-Oh, Friend! pronounce me

poor;

For I have wants, which wealth can never cure!

Let others, with a narrow'd stint of pride,

In felfish views, a bounded hope divide:

If I muft with at all-Defires are free,
High, as the Highest, I would wish to be!
Then might I, fole supreme, act, unconfin'd,
And with unbounded influence blefs mankind.
Mean is that foul, whom its own good can fill!
A profperous world, alone, could feast my will.
He's poor, at beft, who others mifery fees,
And wants the wish'd-for power to give them ease!
A glory this, unreach'd, but on a throne!
All were enough-and, less than all, is none!
This
my first wifh :-But fince 'tis wild, and vain,
To grafp at glittering clouds, with fruitless pain,
More fafely low, let my next profpect be,

And life's mild evening this fair fun-fet fee.

Far from a Lord's loath'd neighbourhood-a State ! Whofe little greatnefs is a pride I hate!

On fome lone wild, fhould my large house be plac'd, Vaftly furrounded by a healthful wafte!

Steril, and coarfe, the untry'd foil fhould be,

Till forc'd to flourish, and subdued by me.

Seas, woods, meads, mountains, gardens, ftreams, and fkies,

Should, with a changeful grandeur, charm my eyes!
Where-e'er I walk'd, effects of my past pains
Should plume the mountain tops, and paint the plains,
Greatly obfcure, and fhunning courts, or name;
Widely befriended, but escaping fame;

Peaceful, in ftudious quiet, would I live,
Lie hid, for leifure, and grow rich, to give!

TO

S

TO MR. SAVAGE,

SON of the late EARL RIVERS.

INK not, my friend, beneath misfortune's weight,
Pleas'd to be found intrinsically great.

Shame on the dull, who think the foul looks lefs,
Because the body wants a glittering dress.
It is the mind's for-ever bright attire,

The mind's embroidery, that the wise admire !
That which looks rich to the grofs vulgar eyes,
Is the fop's tinfel, which the grave despise.
Wealth dims the eyes of crowds, and while they gaze,
The coxcomb 's ne'er difcover'd in the blaze!

As few the vices of the wealthy fee,

So virtues are conceal'd by poverty.

Earl Rivers!-In that name how would'st thou shine? Thy verfe, how fweet! thy fancy, how divine! Critics and Bards would, by their worth, be aw'd, And all would think it merit to applaud. But thou has nought to please the vulgar eye, No title haft, nor what might titles buy. Thou wilt small praise, but much ill-nature find, Clear to thy errors, to thy beauties blind; And if, though few, they any faults can fee, How meanly bitter will cold cenfure be! But, fince we all, the wifeft of us, err, Sure, 'tis the greatest fault to be fèvere.

A few,