21 Ah me! for now a younger rival claims My ravished honours, and to her belong My choral dances, and victorious games, To her my garlands and triumphal song. 22 O say what yet untasted beauties flow, What purer joys await her gentler reign? Do lilies fairer, violets sweeter blow? And warbles Philomel a softer strain? 23 Do morning suns in ruddier glory rise? Does evening fan her with serener gales? Do clouds drop fatness from the wealthier skies, Or wantons plenty in her happier vales? 24 Ah! no: the blunted beams of dawning light Skirt the pale orient with uncertain day; And Cynthia, riding on the car of night, Through clouds embattled faintly wings her way. 25 Pale, immature, the blighted verdure springs, Nor mounting juices feed the swelling flower; Mute all the groves, nor Philomela sings When silence listens at the midnight hour. 26 Nor wonder, man, that Nature's bashful face, And opening charms, her rude embraces fear: Is she not sprung from April's wayward race, The sickly daughter of the unripened year? 27 With showers and sunshine in her fickle eyes, With hollow smiles proclaiming treacherous peace, With blushes, harbouring, in their thin disguise, The blasts that riot on the Spring's increase? 28 Is this the fair invested with my spoil By Europe's laws, and senates' stern command? Ungenerous Europe! let me fly thy soil, And waft my treasures to a grateful land; 29 Again revive, on Asia's drooping shore, My Daphne's groves, or Lycia's ancient plain; Again to Afric's sultry sands restore Embowering shades, and Lybian Ammon's fane: 30 Or haste to northern Zembla's savage coast, There hush to silence elemental strife; Brood o'er the regions of eternal frost, And swell her barren womb with heat and life. 31 Then Britain--Here she ceased. Indignant grief, And parting pangs, her faltering tongue suppressed: Veiled in an amber cloud she sought relief, And tears and silent anguish told the rest. FRANCIS FAWKES. This 'learned and jovial parson,' as Campbell calls him, was born in 1721, in Yorkshire. He studied at Cambridge, and became curate at Croydon, in Surrey. Here he obtained the friendship of Archbishop Herring, and was by him appointed vicar of Orpington in Kent, a situation which he ultimately exchanged for the rectory of Hayes, in the same county. He translated various minor Greek poets, including Anacreon, Sappho, Bion and Moschus, Theocritus, &c. He died in 1777. His 'Brown Jug' breathes some of the spirit of the first of these writers, and two or three lines of it were once quoted triumphantly in Parliament by Sheil, while charging Peel, we think it was, with appropriating arguments from Bishop Philpotts--'Harry of Exeter.' 'Dear Tom, this brown jug that now foams with mild ale, Was once Toby Philpotts,' &c. THE BROWN JUG.