4

31. 'Then it shall be, that whofo cometh forth of the doors of my house to meet me when I return in peace, shall surely be the Lord's, and I will offer it up for a burnt offering.'

34. And behold his daughter came out to meet him with timbrels and dances; she was his only child; befide her he had neither son nor daughter.

35. And it came to pafs that when he faw her he rent his cloaths and faid 'Alas, my daughter, thou haft brought me very low, for I have opened my mouth unto the Lord, and I cannot go back.'

36. And she faid, 'My father, if thou haft opened thy mouth unto the Lord, &c.'

39. And it came to pafs at the end of two months, that he did unto her according to his vow.

SOME fury at that hour
Poffefs'd me—in her breaft I plung'd the fword,
Gor'd her white bofom, though her fearful eyes
Look'd up to me for aid—

ARISTODEMUS.

3

No. III.

HEAD OF KING LEAR.

AFTER SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.

BLOW, winds, and crack your cheeks, rage, blow!
You cataracts, and hurricanes, spout
Till you have drench'd our steeplees, drown'd the cocks!
You sulphurous, and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt couriers of oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all shaking thunder,
Strike flat the thick rotundity o' th' world;
Crack nature's mould, all germs spill at once,
That make ungrateful man—
Rumble thy belly-full—spit, fire; spout, rain!
No rain, wind, thunder, fire are my daughters;
I tax not you, ye elements, with unkindneſs;
I never gave you kingdoms, call'd you children,
You owe me no subſcription—then let fall
Your horrible difpleafure—here I stand your slave,
A poor, infirm, weak and deſpifed old man.

SHAKESPEARE.

No. IV.

LOBSTER AND CRAB.

AFTER FRANCIS PLACE, ESQ.

OR under rocks their food
In jointed armour watch.

PARADISE LOST.

6

No. V.

LAUGHING GIRL.

AFTER SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.

COME, thou god defining, fair and free,
In Heav'n y'clep'd Euphrofyne,
And by men heart-eafing mirth,
Whom lovely Venus, at a birth
With two fifter graces more,
To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore :
Hafte thee, nymph, and bring with thee
Mirth, and joy, and jollity,
Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles,
Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
And love to live in dimples fleek;
Sport, that wrinkled care derides,
And laughter, holding both his fides,

MILTON'S L'ALLEGRO.

No. VI.

GLOOMY LANDSCAPE.

AFTER COZENS.

STILL let me pierce into the midnight depth
Of yonder grove, of wildeft, largeft growth :
That, forming high in air a woodland quire,

7

Nods o'er the mount beneath. At ev'ry step,
Solemn, and flow, the shadows blacker fall,
And all is awful liftening gloom around.

THOMPSON'S SEASONS.

No. VII.

LODONA.

AFTER MARIA COSWAY.

ABOVE the reft a rural nymph was fam'd,
Thy offspring, Thames! the fair Lodona nam'd;
(Lodona's fate, in long oblivion caft,
The muſe ſhall ſing, and what ſhe ſings ſhall laſt.)
Scarce could the goddeſs from her nymph be known,
But by the creſcent and the golden zone.
She ſcorn'd the praife of beauty, and the care;
A belt her waift, a fillet binds her hair;
A painted quiver on her ſhoulder ſounds,
And with her dart the flying deer ſhe wounds.
It chanc'd, as, eager of the chafe, the maid
Beyond the foreſt's verdant limits ſtray'd,
Pan ſaw and lov'd, and, burning with defire,
Purſu'd her flight; her flight increas'd his fire.

8

Not half so swift the trembling doves can fly,
When the fierce eagle cleaves the liquid sky;
Not half so swiftly the fierce eagle moves,
When thro' the clouds he drives the trembling doves;
As from the god she flew with furious pace,
Or as the god, more furious, urg'd the chafe.
Now, fainting, finking, pale, the nymph appears;
Now, close behind, his founding steps she hears;
And now his shadow reach'd her as she run,
His shadow lengthen'd by the fetting fun;
And now his shorter breath with fultry air
Pants on her neck, and fans her parting hair.
In vain on Father Thames she calls for aid,
Nor could Diana help her injur'd maid.
Faint, breathlefs, thus she pray'd, nor pray'd in vain;
Ah, Cynthia, ah!—tho' banish'd from thy train,
Let me, O let me, to the shades repair,
My native shades—there weep, and murmur there.
She faid, and, meking as in tears she lay,
In a soft filver stream diffolv'd away.

POPE.

No. VIII.

LANDSCAPE—EFFECT OF MOON-LIGHT.

AFTER JOSEPH WRIGHT.

THE moon-beam sliding softly in between
The fleeping leaves.

COWPER'S TASK.

9

No. IX.

COTTAGE GIRL

AFTER RUSSEL.

No. X.

PARTRIDGES.

AFTER MOSES HAUGHTON.

CAUGHT in the meskyfnare, in vain they beat
Their idle wings, intangled more and more:
Nor on the furges of the boundlefs air,
Tho' borne triumphant, are they fafe; the gun,
Glanc'd juft, and fudden, from the fowler's eye,
O'ertakes their founding pinions; and again,
Immediate, brings them from the tow'ring wing,
Dead to the ground, or drives them wide diffpers'd,
Wounded, and wheeling various, down the wind.

THOMSON'S SEASONS.

B

10

No. XI.

ON A GOLD-FINCH STARVED TO DEATH
IN A CAGE.

AFTER RUSSEL.

TIME was when I was free as air,
The shiftles downy feed my fare,
My drink the morning dew;
I perch'd at will on ev'ry spray,
My form genteel, my plumage gay,
My ftrains for ever new.

But gaudy plumage, fprightly ftrain,
And form genteel were all in vain,
And of a tranfient date;
For caught, and caged, and ftarved to death,
In dying fighs my little breath
Soon pafs'd the wiry grate.

Thanks, gentle maid, for all my woes,
And thanks for this effectual clofe
And cure of ev'ry ill!
More cruelty could none exprefs;
And I, if you had fhewn me lefs,
Had been your pris'ner ftill.

11

No. XII.

CARP.

AFTER J. MILLER.

THE yellow carp, in fcales bedrop'd with gold.

WINDSOR FOREST.

............ Sporting with quick glance,
Show to the fun their wav'd coats dropt with gold.

PARADISE LOST.

No. XIII.

LANDSCAPE—A FISHING PARTY.

AN ORIGINAL.

WHEN with his lively ray the potent fun
Has pierc'd the fstreams, and rous'd the finny race,
Then, iffuing cheerful, to thy fport repair;
Chief fhould the western breezes curling play,
And light o'er ether bear the fhadowy clouds.
High to their fount, this day, amid the hills,
And woodlands warbling round, trace up the brooks;
The next, purfue their rocky-channel'd maze,
Down to the river, in whose ample wave
Their little naiads love to fport at large.

THOMSON'S SEASONS.

12

No. XIV.

THE GLEANER.

AFTER WESTALL.

AT length, o'ergrown with tangled brush-wood round,
A shady bank the little wanderer found;
Here her faint limbs she refts, high o'er her head
Its rich embowering bows an oak out spread;
The bloom grows fainter on her lovely cheeks,
Yet her mild look a patient reverence speaks;
One trembling hand grafps half her grainy prize,
(Half drop'd beneath her feet forfaken lies ;)
One folds her mantle o'er her shivering form,
While her blue eye up-turned furveys the storm.
It pours around, the driven clouds and rain,
In one dim hue, conjoin skies, trees, and plain.
Oft the rude blast affails her features fair,
Toffing with cruel rage her golden hair;
Rain-drops and hail in drifts succeffive beat,
Cold, keen, and pointed, on her unshod feet;
Sedate she fits,—she fears, but not defpairs,
Her tender breast a magic corflet wears;
There Innocence has fix'd her hallowed feat,
And taught the heart with holy hope to beat.

SUSANNA WATTS'S AUTUMNAL SCENE.

13

No. XV.

FORTUNE-TELLERS.

AFTER THE REV. — PETERS.

But ah! ye maids beware the gypfies lures!
Twice did her hands, the income of the week,
On either side, the crooked fixpence feek.
Twice were thofe hands withdrawn from fide to fide,
To ftop the titt'ring laugh, the blufh to hide.
The wayward prophet made no long delay,
No novice ſhe in fortune's devious way !
With you ſhall foon, O lady fair, prevail
A gentle youth, the flower of this fair vale.

LANGHORNE'S COUNTRY JUSTICE.

No. XVI.

MADONNA DELLA SEDIA.

AFTER RAPHAEL.

MADONNAS here decline the head,
With fond maternal pleafure fed.

DODSLEY'S COLLECTION.

16

No. XXIII.

ELOISA; A NUN.

AFTER J. OPIE.

How happy is the blamelefs veftal's lot;
The world forgetting, by the world forgot:
Eternal fun-fhine of the spotlefs mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wifh resign'd;
Labour and reft, that equal periods keep;
"Obedient flumbers that can wake and sleep;"
Defires compos'd, affections ever ev'n;
Tears that delight, and fighs that waft to heav'n.
Grace fhines around her with fereneft beams,
And whifp'ring Angels prompt her golden dreams.
For her th' unfading roſe of Eden blooms,
And wings of Seraphs ſhed divine perfumes,
For her the ſpouſe prepares the bridal ring,
For her white virgins hymenæals ſing,
To founds of heav'nly harps ſhe dies away,
And melts in vifions of eternal day.

POPE.

No. XXIV.

LANDSCAPE.

AFTER COZENS.

Low walks the fun, and broadens by degrees,
Juft o'er the verge of day. The ſhifting clouds
Aſlembled gay, a richly gorgeous train,
In all their pomp attend his fetting throne.
Air, earth, and ocean, ſmile immenſe. And now,
As if his weary chariot fought the bowers
Of Amphitrite, and her tending nymphs,

17

(So Grecian fable ſung) he dips his orb;
Now half-immerſed: and now a golden curve
Gives one bright glance, then total diſappears.

THOMSON'S SEASONS.

No. XXV.

VIRGILS TOMB BY MOON-LIGHT.

AFTER JOSEPH WRIGHT.

No fairy rites, no funeral pomp I found,
No trophied walls, with wreaths of laurel round,
A mean unhonour'd ruin faintly ſhow'd
The ſpot where once thy Mauroleum ſtood:
Hardly the form remain'd—a nodding dome
O'ergrown with moſs, is now all Virgil's tomb—
'Twas ſuch a ſcene as gave a ſad relief
To memory, in ſober penſive grief;
Gloomy, unpleaſing images it wrought;
No muſing, ſoft complacency of thought;
For time had cankered all, and worn away
E'en the laſt mournful graces of decay—
Oblivion, hateful goddeſs, fat before,
And cover'd, with her duſky wings, the door.

DODSLEY'S COLL.

No. XXVI.

COTTAGE IN FLAMES,

AFTER J. WRIGHT.

C

18

No. XXVII.

HEAD OF ST. PETER.

AFTER GUIDO.

No. XXVIII.

HARE.

AFTER MOSES HAUGHTON.

IN her dim glaring eyes
Cold death exults, and stiffens ev'ry limb.

CHASE.

No. XXIX.

SLEEPING GIRL.

AFTER SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.

SLEEP is a god too proud to wait in palaces,
And yet so humble too as not to fcorn
The meanest country cottages;—
His poppy grows amongst the corn
The halcyon Sleep will never build his neft
In any stormy breast :
'Tis not enough that he should find
Nor clouds, nor darknes in the mind;
These but half his work will do;
He must find peace and quiet too.

COWLEY.

BEHOLD that scene—then fay that wearineſs
Can fleep upon a flint, while reſtleſs floth
Finds the down pillow hard.

CYMBELINE

19

No. XXX.

AMERICAN OWL.

AFTER REINAGLE.

HENCE, glaring monſter, hence! forbear to fright
My trembling foul, thou baleful bird of night!
The laſhing of your wings I know too well,
Your founding flight, and funeral fcreams of hell.

DRYDEN.

No. XXXI.

WOODMAN.

AFTER BARKER.

FORTH goes the woodman, leaving unconcern'd
The cheerful haunts of man: to wield the axe
And drive the wedge in yonder forest drear,
From morn to eve his solitary tafk.
Shaggy, and lean, and fhrew'd, with pointed ears
And tail cropp'd fhort, half lurcher and half cur,
His dog attends him. Cloſe behind his heel
Now creeps he flow; and now, with many a frisk
Wide-fcampering, fnatches up the drifted snow
With iv'ry teeth, or ploughs it with his ſnout;
Then shakes his powder'd coat, and barks for joy.