Elegy XVI. He suggests the advantages of birth to a person of merit, and the folly of a superciliousness that is built upon that sole foundation

WHEN genius, grac'd with lineal splendour, glows,
When title shines, with ambient virtues crown'd,
Like some fair almond's flow'ry pomp it shows,
The pride, the persume, of the regions round.

Then learn, ye Fair! to soften splendour's ray;
Endure the swain, the youth of low degree;
Let meekness join'd its temp'rate beam display;
'Tis the mild verdure that endears the tree.

Pity the scandal'd swain, the shepherd's boy;
He sighs to brighten a neglected name;
Foe to the dull appulse of vulgar joy,
He mourns his lot; he wishes, merits fame.

In vain to groves and pathless vales we fly;
Ambition there the bow'ry haunt invades;
Fame's awful rays fatigue the courtier's eye,
But gleam still lovely thro' the chequer'd shades.

Vainly, to guard from Love's unequal chain,
Has Fortune rear'd us in the rural grove;
Should ****'s eyes illume the desert plain,
Ev'n I may wonder, and ev'n I must love.

Nor unregarded sighs the lowly hind;
Tho' you contemn, the gods respect his vow;
Vindictive rage awaits the scornful mind,
And vengeance, too severe! the gods allow.

On Sarum's plain I met a wand'ring fair;
The look of sorrow, lovely still, she bore;
Loose flow'd the soft redundance of her hair,
And on her brow a flow'ry wreath she wore.

Oft' stooping as she stray'd, she cull'd the pride
Of ev'ry plain; she pillag'd ev'ry grove!
The fading chaplet daily she supply'd,
And still her hand some various garland wove.

Erroneous Fancy shap'd her wild attire;
From Bethlem's walls the poor lympatic stray'd;
Seem'd with her air her accent to conspire,
When as wild Fancy taught her, thus she said:

" Hear me, dear Youth! oh! hear an hapless maid,
" Sprung from the sceptred line of ancient kings!
" Scorn'd by the world, I ask thy tender aid;
" Thy gentle voice shall whisper kinder things.

" The world is frantic—fly the race profane—
" Nor I nor you shall its compassion move;
" Come, friendly let us wander and complain,
" And tell me, Shepherd! hast thou seen my love?

" My love is young—but other loves are young;
" And other loves are fair, and so is mine;
" An air divine discloses whence he sprung;
" He is my love who boasts that air divine.

" No vulgar Damon robs me of my rest;
" Ianthe listens to no vulgar vow;
" A prince, from gods descended, fires her breast;
" A brilliant crown distinguishes his brow.

" What, shall I stain the glories of my race,
" More clear, more lovely bright, than Hesper's beam?
" The porc'lain pure with vulgar dirt debase?
" Or mix with puddle the pellucid stream?

" See thro' these veins the sapphire current shine!
" 'Twas Jove's own nectar gave th' ethereal hue:
" Can base plebeian forms contend with mine,
" Display the lovely white, or match the blue?

" The painter strove to trace its azure ray;
" He chang'd his colours, and in vain he strove:
" He frown'd—I, smiling, view'd the faint essay:
" Poor youth! he little knew it flow'd from Jove.

" Pitying his toil, the wondrous truth I told,
" How am'rous Jove trepann'd a mortal fair;
" How thro' the race the gen'rous current roll'd,
" And mocks the poet's art and painter's care.

" Yes, from the gods, from earliest Saturn, sprung
" Our sacred race, thro' demigods convey'd,
" And he, ally'd to Phoebus, ever young,
" My godlike boy! must wed their duteous maid.

" Oft', when a mortal vow profanes my ear,
" My sire's dread fury murmurs thro' the sky;
" And should I yield—his instant rage appears;
" He darts th' uplifted vengeance—and I die.

" Have you not heard unwonted thunders roll?
" Have you not seen more horrid lightnings glare?
" 'Twas then a vulgar love ensnar'd my soul;
" 'Twas then—I hardly 'scap'd the fatal snare.

" 'Twas then a peasant pour'd his am'rous vow,
" All as I listen'd to his vulgar strain;—
" Yet such his beauty—would my birth allow,
" Dear were the youth, and blissful were the plain.

" But, oh! I faint! why wastes my vernal bloom,
" In fruitless searches ever doom'd to rove?
" My nightly dreams the toilsome path resume,
" And shall I die—before I find my love?

" When last I slept, methought my ravish'd eye
" On distant heaths his radiant form survey'd;
" Tho' night's thick clouds encompass'd all the sky,
" The gems that bound his brow dispell'd the shade,

" O how this bosom kindled at the sight!
" Led by their beams I urg'd the pleasing chase,
" Till on a sudden these withheld their light—
" All, all things envy the sublime embrace.

" But now no more—Behind the distant grove
" Wanders my destin'd youth, and chides my stay:
" See, see! he grasps the steel—Forbear, my Love—
" Ianthe comes; thy princess hastes away."

Scornful she spoke, and, heedless of reply,
The lovely maniac bounded o'er the plain,
The piteous victim of an angry sky!
Ah me! the victim of her proud disdain.