The poetical works: of Will. Shenstone. In two volumes. With the life of the author, and a description of the Leasowes. ... [pt.2]

ODES, &c.

ODE TO HEALTH, 1730.

O HEALTH! capricious maid! Why dost thou shun my peaceful bow'r, Where I had hope to share thy pow'r, And bless thy lasting aid?

Since thou, alas! art flown,Line 5 It 'vails not whether Muse or Grace, With tempting smile, frequent the place; I sigh for thee alone.

Age not forbids thy stay; Thou yet might'st act the friendly part;Line 10 Thou yet might'st raise this languid heart; Why speed so swift away?

Thou scorn'st the city-air; I breathe fresh gales o'er furrow'd ground, Yet hast not thou my wishes crown'd,Line 15 O false! O partial Fair!

I plunge into the wave; And tho' with purest hands I raise A rural altar to thy praise, Thou wilt not deign to save.Line 20

Amid my well-known grove, Where mineral fountains vainly bear Thy boasted name and titles fair, Why scorns thy foot to rove?

Thou hear'st the sportsman's claim,Line 25 Enabling him, with idle noise, To drown the Muse's melting voice, And fright the tim'rous game.

Is thought thy foe? Adieu, Ye midnight lamps! ye curious tomes!Line 30 Mine eye o'er hills and vallies roams, And deals no more with you.

Is it the clime you flee? Yet 'midst his unremitting snows The poor Laponian's bosom glows,Line 35 And shares bright rays from thee.

There was, there was a time, When tho' I scorn'd thy guardian care, Nor made a vow nor said a pray'r, I did not rue the crime.Line 40

Who then more bless'd than I? When the glad schoolboy's task was done, And forth, with jocund sprite, I run To freedom and to joy?

How jovial then the day!Line 45 What since have all my labours found, Thus climbing life to gaze around, That can thy loss repay?

Wert thou, alas! but kind, Methinks no frown that Fortune wears,Line 50 Nor lessen'd hopes nor growing cares, Could sink my cheerful mind.

Whate'er my stars include, What other breasts convert to pain, My tow'ring mind should soon disdain,Line 55 Should scorn—Ingratitude!

Repair this mould'ring cell, And bless'd with objects found at home, And envying none their fairer dome, How pleas'd my soul should dwell!Line 60

Temperance should guard the doors; From room to room should Mem'ry stray, And, ranging all in neat array, Enjoy her pleasing stores—

There let them rest unknown,Line 65 The types of many a pleasing scene; But to preserve them bright or clean, Is thine, fair Queen! alone.Line 68

TO A LADY OF QUALITY, FITTING UP HER LIBRARY, 1738.

AH! what is science, what is art, Or what the pleasure these impart? Ye trophies which the learn'd pursue Thro' endless fruitless toils, adieu!

What can the tedious tomes bestow,Line 5 To sooth the miseries they show? What like the bliss for him decreed Who tends his flock and tunes his reed!

Say, wretched Fancy! thus refin'd From all that glads the simplest hind,Line 10 How rare that object which supplies A charm for too discerning eyes!

The polish'd bard, of genius vain, Endures a deeper sense of pain; As each invading blast devoursLine 15 The richest fruits, the fairest flow'rs.

Sages, with irksome waste of time, The steep ascent of knowledge climb, Then from the tow'ring heights they scale, Behold Contentment range—the vale.Line 20

Yet why, Asteria, tell us why We scorn the crowd when you are nigh? Why then does reason seem so fair, Why learning then deserve our care?

Who can unpleas'd your shelves behold,Line 25 While you so fair a proof unfold What force the brightest genius draws From polish'd wisdom's written laws?

Where are our humbler tenets flown? What strange perfection bids us ownLine 30 That Bliss with toilsome Science dwells, And happiest he who most excels?Line 32

ANACREONTIC, 1738.

'TWAS in a cool Aonian glade The wanton Cupid, spent with toil, Had sought refreshment from the shade, And stretch'd him on the mossy soil.

A vagrant Muse drew nigh, and foundLine 5 The subtle traitor fast asleep; And is it thine to snore profound, She said, yet leave the world to weep?

But hush—from this auspicious hour The world, I ween, may rest in peace,Line 10

And robb'd of darts, and stript of pow'r, Thy peevish petulance decrease.

Sleep on, poor Child! whilst I withdraw, And this thy vile artill'ry hide— When the Castalian fount she saw,Line 15 And plung'd his arrows in the tide.

That magic fount—ill-judging maid! Shall cause you soon to curse the day You dar'd the shafts of Love invade, And gave his arms redoubled sway.Line 20

For in a stream so wondrous clear, When angry Cupid searches round, Will not the radiant points appear? Will not the furtive spoils be found?

Too soon they were; and ev'ry dart,Line 25 Dipp'd in the Muse's mystic spring, Acquir'd new force to wound the heart, And taught at once to love and sing.

Then farewell, ye Pierian quire! For who will now your altars throng?Line 30 From love we learn to swell the lyre, And Echo asks no sweeter song.Line 32

ODE. Written 1739.

Urit spes animi credula mutui?HOR.

IMITATION.

Fond hope of a reciprocal desire Inflames the breast.

'TWAS not by Beauty's aid alone That Love usurp'd his airy throne, His boasted pow'r display'd; 'Tis kindness that secures his aim, 'Tis hope that feeds the kindling flame,Line 5 Which Beauty first convey'd.

In Clara's eyes the lightnings view; Her lips, with all the rose's hue Have all its sweets combin'd; Yet vain the blush, and faint the fire,Line 10 Till lips at once, and eyes, conspire To prove the charmer kind—

Tho' wit might gild the tempting snare With softest accent, sweetest air, By Envy's self admir'd;Line 15 If Lesbia's wit betray'd her scorn, In vain might ev'ry Grace adorn What ev'ry Muse inspir'd.

Thus airy Strephon tun'd his lyre— He scorn'd the pangs of wild desire,Line 20 Which love-sick swains endure; Resolv'd to brave the keenest dart, Since frowns could never wound his heart, And smiles—must ever cure.

But, ah! how false these maxims prove,Line 25 How frail security from love Experience hourly shows! Love can imagin'd smiles supply, On ev'ry charming lip and eye Eternal sweets bestows.Line 30

In vain we trust the fair one's eyes; In vain the sage explores the skies, To learn from stars his fate; Till led by fancy wide astray, He finds no planet mark his way;Line 35 Convinc'd and wise—too late.

As partial to their words we prove, Then boldly join the lists of love, With tow'ring hopes supply'd: So heroes, taught by doubtful shrines,Line 40 Mistook their deity's designs, Then took the field—and dy'd.Line 42

UPON A VISIT TO A LADY OF QUALITY, In winter 1748.

ON fair Asteria's blissful plains, Where ever-blooming Fancy reigns, How pleas'd we pass the winter's day, And charm the dull-ey'd Spleen away!

No linnet, from the leafless bough,Line 5 Pours forth her note melodious now, But all admire Asteria's tongue, Nor wish the linnet's vernal song.

No flow'rs emit their transient rays; Yet sure Asteria's wit displaysLine 10 More various tints, more glowing lines, And with perennial beauty shines.

Tho' rifled groves and fetter'd streams But ill befriend a poet's dreams, Asteria's presence wakes the lyre,Line 15 And well supplies poetic fire.

The fields have lost their lovely dye, No cheerful azure decks the sky, Yet still we bless the louring day; Asteria smiles—and all is gay.Line 20

Hence let the Muse no more presume To blame the winter's dreary gloom, Accuse his loit'ring hours no more, But, ah! their envious haste deplore.

For soon from Wit and Friendship's reign,Line 25 The social hearth, the sprightly vein, I go—to meet the coming year On savage plains and deserts drear!

I go—to feed on pleasures flown, Nor find the spring my loss atone;Line 30 But 'mid the flow'ry sweets of May With pride recall this winter's day.Line 32

ODE TO MEMORY, 1748.

O MEMORY! celestial maid! Who glean'st the flow'rets cropt by time, And, suffering not a leaf to fade, Preserv'st the blossoms of our prime, Bring, bring those moments to my mindLine 5 When life was new and Lesbia kind.

And bring that garland to my sight With which my favour'd crook she bound, And bring that wreath of roses bright Which then my festive temples crown'd,Line 10 And to my raptur'd ear convey The gentle things she deign'd to say.

And sketch with care the Muse's bow'r, Where Isis rolls her silver tide, Nor yet omit one reed or flow'rLine 15 That shines on Cherwell's verdant side, If so thou may'st those hours prolong, When polish'd Lycon join'd my song.

The song it 'vails not to recite— But, sure, to sooth our youthful dreams,Line 20 Those banks and streams appear'd more bright Than other banks, than other streams; Or by thy soft'ning pencil shown, Assume they beauties not their own?

And paint that sweetly-vacant sceneLine 25 When, all beneath the poplar bough, My spirits light, my soul serene, I breath'd in verse one cordial vow, That nothing should my soul inspire But friendship warm and love entire.Line 30

Dull to the sense of new delight, On thee the drooping Muse attends, As some fond lover, robb'd of sight, On thy expressive pow'r depends, Nor would exchange thy glowing lines,Line 35 To live the lord of all that shines.

But let me chase those vows away Which at Ambition's shrine I made, Nor ever let thy skill display Those anxious moments, ill repaid:Line 40 Oh! from my breast that season rase, And bring my childhood in its place.

Bring me the bells, the rattle bring, And bring the hobby I bestrode, When pleas'd, in many a sportive ringLine 45 Around the room I jovial rode; Ev'n let me bid my lyre adieu, And bring the whistle that I blew.

Then will I muse, and, pensive, say, Why did not these enjoyments last?Line 50 How sweetly wasted I the day, While innocence allow'd to waste! Ambition's toils alike are vain, But, ah! for pleasure yield us pain.Line 54

VERSES Written towards the close of the year 1748, TO WILLIAM LYTTLETON, ESQ.

HOW blithly pass'd the summer's day! How bright was ev'ry flow'r! While friends arriv'd, in circles gay, To visit Damon's bow'r!

But now, with silent step, I rangeLine 5 Along some lonely shore, And Damon's bow'r, alas the change! Is gay with friends no more.

Away to crowds and cities borne, In quest of joy they steer,Line 10 Whilst I, alas! am left forlorn To weep the parting year!

O pensive Autumn! how I grieve Thy sorrowing face to see! When languid suns are taking leaveLine 15 Of ev'ry drooping tree.

Ah! let me not, with heavy eye, This dying scene survey! Haste, Winter! haste; usurp the sky; Complete my bow'r's decay.Line 20

Ill can I bear the motley cast Yon' sick'ning leaves retain, That speak at once of pleasure past, And bode approaching pain.

At home unbless'd, I gaze around,Line 25 My distant scenes require, Where, all in murky vapours drown'd, Are hamlet, hill, and spire.

Tho' Thomson, sweet descriptive bard! Inspiring Autumn sung,Line 30 Yet how should we the months regard That stopp'd his flowing tongue?

Ah! luckless months, of all the rest, To whose hard share it fell! For sure he was the gentlest breastLine 35 That ever sung so well.

And see, the swallows now disown The roofs they lov'd before, Each, like his tuneful genius, flown To glad some happier shore.Line 40

The wood-nymph eyes, with pale affright, The sportsman's frantic deed, While hounds, and horns, and yells, unite To drown the Muse's reed.

Ye Fields! with blighted herbage brown,Line 45 Ye Skies! no longer blue, Too much we feel from Fortune's frown To bear these frowns from you.

Where is the mead's unsully'd green? The zephyr's balmy gale?Line 50 And where sweet Friendship's cordial mien, That brighten'd ev'ry vale?

What tho' the vine disclose her dyes, And boast her purple store? Not all the vineyard's rich suppliesLine 55 Can sooth our sorrows more.

He! he is gone, whose moral strain Could wit and mirth refine; He! he is gone, whose social vein Surpass'd the pow'r of wine.Line 60

Fast by the streams he deign'd to praise, In yon' sequester'd grove, To him a votive urn I raise, To him and friendly Love.

Yes, there, my Friend! forlorn and sad,Line 65 I grave your Thomson's name, And there his lyre, which Fate forbade To sound your growing fame.

There shall my plaintive song recount Dark themes of hopeless woe,Line 70 And faster than the dropping fount I'll teach mine eyes to flow.

There leaves, in spite of Autumn green, Shall shade the hallow'd ground, And Spring will there again be seen,Line 75 To call forth flow'rs around.

But no kind suns will bid me share, Once more, his social hour; Ah, Spring! thou never canst repair This loss to Damon's bow'r.Line 80

AN IRREGULAR ODE, After sickness, 1749.

—Melius, cum venerit ipsa, canemus.

IMITATION.

His wish'd-for presence will improve the song.

TOO long a stranger to repose, At length from Pain's abhorred couch I rose, And wander'd forth alone, To court once more the balmy breeze, And catch the verdure of the trees,Line 5 Ere yet their charms were flown.

'Twas from a bank with pansies gay I hail'd once more the cheerful day, The sun's forgotten beams: O Sun! how pleasing were thy rays,Line 10 Reflected from the polish'd face Of yon' refulgent streams!

Rais'd by the scene, my feeble tongue Essay'd again the sweets of song, And thus in feeble strains, and slow,Line 15 The loit'ring numbers 'gan to flow.

" Come, gentle Air! my languid limbs restore, " And bid me welcome from the Stygian shore, " For sure I heard the tender sighs, " I seem'd to join the plaintive criesLine 20 " Of hapless youths, who thro' the myrtle grove " Bewail for ever their unfinish'd love; " To that unjoyous clime, " Torn from the sight of these ethereal skies, " Debarr'd the lustre of their Delia's eyes,Line 25 " And banish'd in their prime.

" Come, gentle Air! and, while the thickets bloom, " Convey the jasmine's breath divine, " Convey the woodbine's rich perfume, " Nor spare the sweet-leaf'd eglantine;Line 30 " And may'st thou shun the rugged storm " Till Health her wonted charms explain, " With Rural Pleasure in her train, " To greet me in her fairest form; " While from this lofty mount I viewLine 35 " The sons of Earth, the vulgar crew, " Anxious for futile gains, beneath me stray, " And seek with erring step Contentment's obvious way.

" Come, gentle Air! and thou, celestial Muse! " Thy genial flame infuse,Line 40 " Enough to lend a pensive bosom aid, " And gild Retirement's gloomy shade;

" Enough to rear such rustic lays " As foes may slight, but partial friends will praise."

The gentle Air allow'd my claim,Line 45 And, more to cheer my drooping frame, She mix'd the balm of op'ning flowers, Such as the bee, with chymic powers, From Hybla's fragrant hills inhales, Or scents Sabea's blooming vales:Line 50 But, ah! the nymphs that heal the pensive mind, By prescripts more refin'd, Neglect their vot'ry's anxious moan: Oh! how should they relieve?—the Muses all were flown.

By flow'ry plain or woodland shadesLine 55 I fondly sought the charming maids; By woodland shades or flow'ry plain I sought them, faithless maids! in vain; When, lo! in happier hour, I leave behind my native mead,Line 60 To range where Zeal and Friendship lead, To visit L****'s honour'd bower. Ah! foolish man! to seek the tuneful maids On other plains, or near less verdant shades!

Scarce have my footsteps press'd the favour'd ground, When sounds ethereal strike my ear;Line 66 At once celestial forms appear; My fugitives are found!

The Muses here attune their lyres, Ah! partial, with unwonted fires;Line 70 Here, hand in hand, with careless mien, The sportive Graces trip the green.

But whilst I wander'd o'er a scene so fair, Too well at one survey I trace How ev'ry Muse and ev'ry GraceLine 75 Had long employ'd their care. Lurks not a stone enrich'd with lively stain, Blooms not a flower amid the vernal store, Falls not a plume on India's distant plain, Glows not a shell on Adria's rocky shore,Line 80 But torn, methought, from native lands or seas, From their arrangement gain fresh pow'r to please.

And some had bent the wild'ring maze, Bedeck'd with ev'ry shrub that blows, And some entwin'd the willing sprays,Line 85 To shield th' illustrious dame's repose; Others had grac'd the sprightly dome, And taught the portrait where to glow; Others arrang'd the curious tome, Or 'mid the decorated spaceLine 90 Assign'd the laurell'd bust a place, And given to learning all the pomp of show; And now from ev'ry task withdrawn, They met and frisk'd it o'er the lawn.

Ah! woe is me, said I,Line 95 And ***'s hilly circuit heard my cry: Have I for this with labour strove, And lavish'd all my little store To fence for you my shady grove, And scollop ev'ry winding shore,Line 100 And fringe with ev'ry purple rose The sapphire stream that down my valley flows?

Ah! lovely treach'rous maids! To quit unseen my votive shades, When pale Disease and tort'ring PainLine 105 Had torn me from the breezy plain, And to a restless couch confin'd, Who ne'er your wonted tasks declin'd. She needs not your officious aid To swell the song or plan the shade;Line 110 By genuine Fancy fir'd, Her native genius guides her hand, And while she marks the sage command, More lovely scenes her skill shall raise, Her lyre resound with nobler raysLine 115 Than ever you inspir'd.

Thus I my rage and grief display, But vainly blame, and vainly mourn, Nor will a Grace or Muse return Till Luxborough lead the way.Line 120

RURAL ELEGANCE, AN ODE TO THE LATE DUCHESS OF SOMERSET. Written 1750.

WHILE orient skies restore the day, And dew-drops catch the lucid ray, Amid the sprightly scenes of morn Will aught the Muse inspire? Oh! peace to yonder clam'rous hornLine 5 That drowns the sacred lyre!

Ye rural Thanes! that o'er the mossy down Some panting tim'rous hare pursue, Does Nature mean your joys alone to crown? Say, does she smooth her lawns for you?Line 10 For you does Echo bid the rocks reply, And, urg'd by rude constraint, resound the jovial cry?

See from the neighb'ring hill, forlorn, The wretched swain your sport survey; He finds his faithful fences torn,Line 15 He finds his labour'd crops a prey; He sees his flock—no more in circles feed, Haply beneath your ravage bleed, And with no random curses lwads the deed.

Nor yet, ye Swains! concludeLine 20 That Nature smiles for you alone; Your bounded souls and your conceptions crude, The proud, the selfish, boast disown: Yours be the produce of the soil; O may it still reward your toil!Line 25 Nor ever the defenceless train Of clinging infants ask support in vain!

But tho' the various harvest gild your plains, Does the mere landscape feast your eye? Or the warm hope of distant gainsLine 30 Far other cause of glee supply? Is not the red-streak's future juice The source of your delight profound, Where Ariconium pours her gems profuse, Purpling a whole horizon round?Line 35 Athirst ye praise the limpid stream, 'tis true; But tho' the pebbled shores among It mimic no unpleasing song, The limpid fountain murmurs not for you.

Unpleas'd ye see the thickets bloom,Line 40 Unpleas'd the Spring her flow'ry robe resume; Unmov'd the mountain's airy pile, The dappled mead without a smile. O let a rural conscious Muse, For well she knows, your froward sense accuse:Line 45

Forth to the solemn oak you bring the square, And span the massy trunk before you cry 'Tis fair.

Nor yet, ye Learn'd! nor yet, ye Courtly Train! If haply from your haunts ye stray To waste with us a summer's day,Line 50 Exclude the taste of ev'ry swain, Nor our untutor'd sense disdain: 'Tis Nature only gives exclusive right To relish her supreme delight; She, where she pleases kind or coy,Line 55 Who furnishes the scene, and forms us to enjoy.

Then hither bring the fair ingenuous mind, By her auspicious aid refin'd. Lo! not an hedge-row hawthorn blows, Or humble harebell paints the plain,Line 60 Or valley winds, or fountain flows, Or purple heath is ting'd in vain: For such the rivers dash the foaming tides, The mountain swells, the dale subsides; Ev'n thriftless furze detains their wand'ring sight,Line 65 And the rough barren rock grows pregnant with delight.

With what suspicious fearful care The sordid wretch secures his claim, If haply some luxurious heir Should alienate the fields that wear his name!Line 70

What scruples lest some future birth Should litigate a span of earth! Bonds, contracts, feoffments, names unmeet for prose, The tow'ring Muse endures not to disclose: Alas! her unrevers'd decree,Line 75 More comprehensive and more free, Her lavish charter, taste, appropriates all we see.

Let gondolas their painted flags unfold, And be the solemn day enroll'd, When, to confirm his lofty plea,Line 80 In nuptial sort, with bridal gold, The grave Venetian weds the sea: Each laughing Muse derides the vow; Ev'n Adria scorns the mock embrace, To some lone hermit on the mountain's brow,Line 85 Allotted, from his natal hour, With all her myrtle shores in dow'r. His breast, to admiration prone, Enjoys the smile upon her face, Enjoys triumphant ev'ry grace,Line 90 And finds her more his own.

Fatigu'd with Form's oppressive laws, When Somerset avoids the great, When, cloy'd with merited applause, She seeks the rural calm retreat,Line 95

Does she not praise each mossy cell, And feel the truth my numbers tell? When, deafen'd by the loud acclaim Which genius grac'd with rank obtains, Could she not more delighted hearLine 100 Yon' throstle chant the rising year? Could she not spurn the wreaths of fame, To crop the primrose of the plains? Does she not sweets in each fair valley find, Lost to the sons of Pow'r, unknown to half man|kind?Line 105

Ah! can she covet there to see The splendid slaves, the reptile race, That oil the tongue and bow the knee, That slight her merit, but adore her place? Far happier, if aright I deem,Line 110 When from gay throngs and gilded spires, To where the lonely halcyons play, Her philosophic step retires; While, studious of the moral theme, She to some smooth sequester'd streamLine 115 Likens the swains' inglorious day, Pleas'd from the flow'ry margin to survey How cool, serene, and clear, the current glides away.

O blind to truth, to virtue blind, Who slight the sweetly pensive mind!Line 120

On whose fair birth the Graces mild, And ev'ry Muse prophetic smil'd. Not that the poet's boasted fire Should Fame's wide-echoing trumpet swell, Or on the music of his lyreLine 125 Each future age with rapture dwell; The vaunted sweets of praise remove, Yet shall such bosoms claim a part In all that glads the human heart; Yet these the spirits form'd to judge and proveLine 130 All Nature's charms immense, and Heav'n's unbound|ed love.

And, oh! the transport most ally'd to song, In some fair villa's peaceful bound, To catch soft hints from Nature's tongue, And bid Arcadia bloom around;Line 135 Whether we fringe the sloping hill, Or smooth below the verdant mead, Whether we break the falling rill, Or thro' meand'ring mazes lead, Or in the horrid bramble's roomLine 140 Bid careless groups of roses bloom, Or let some shelter'd lake serene Reflect flow'rs, woods, and spires, and brighten all the scene.

O sweet disposal of the rural hour! O beauties never known to cloy!Line 145

While Worth and Genius haunt the favour'd bow'r, And ev'ry gentle breast partakes the joy; While Charity at eve surveys the swain, Enabled by these toils to cheer A train of helpless infants dear,Line 150 Speed whistling home across the plain; See vagrant Luxury, her handmaid grown, For half her graceless deeds atone, And hails the bounteous work, and ranks it with her own.

Why brand these pleasures with the nameLine 155 Of soft unsocial toils, of indolence and shame? Search but the garden or the wood, Let yon' admir'd carnation own Not all was meant for raiment or for food, Not all for needful use alone;Line 160 There, while the seeds of future blossoms dwell, 'Tis colour'd for the sight, perfum'd to please the smell.

Why knows the nightingale to sing? Why flows the pine's nectareous juice? Why shines with paint the linnet's wing?Line 165 For sustenance alone? for use? For preservation? Ev'ry sphere Shall bid fair Pleasure's rightful claim appear; And sure there seem, of human kind, Some born to shun the solemn strife;Line 170

Some for amusive tasks design'd, To sooth the certain ills of life; Grace its lone vales with many a budding rose, New founts of bliss disclose, Call forth refreshing shades, and decorate repose.

From plains and woodlands, from the viewLine 176 Of rural Nature's blooming face, Smit with the glare of rank and place, To courts the sons of Fancy flew; There long had Art ordain'd a rival seat,Line 180 There had she lavish'd all her care To form a scene more dazzling fair, And call'd them from their green retreat To share her proud control; Had given the robe with grace to flow,Line 185 Had taught exotic gems to glow; And, emulous of Nature's pow'r, Mimic'd the plume, the leaf, the flow'r; Chang'd the complexion's native hue, Moulded each rustic limb anew,Line 190 And warp'd the very soul.

A while her magic strikes the novel eye, A while the fairy forms delight; And now aloof we seem to fly On purple pinions thro' a purer sky,Line 195 Where all is wondrous, all is bright:

Now, landed on some spangled shore, A while each dazzled maniac roves, By sapphire lakes thro' em'rald groves: Paternal acres please no more;Line 200 Adieu the simple, the sincere delight— Th' habitual scene of hill and dale, The rural herds, the vernal gale, The tangled vetch's purple bloom, The fragrance of the bean's perfume,Line 205 Be theirs alone who cultivate the soil, And drink the cup of thirst, and eat the bread of toil.

But soon the pageant fades away! 'Tis Nature only bears perpetual sway. We pierce the counterfeit delight,Line 210 Fatigu'd with splendour's irksome beams; Fancy again demands the sight Of native groves and wonted streams, Pants for the scenes that charm'd her youthful eyes, Where Truth maintains her court, and banishes Disguise.

Then hither oft', ye Senators! retire;Line 216 With Nature here high converse hold; For who like Stamford her delights admire, Like Stamford shall with scorn behold Th' unequal bribes of pageantry and gold;Line 220 Beneath the British oak's majestic shade Shall see fair Truth, immortal maid! Friendship in artless guise array'd, Line 224

Honour and moral beauty shineLine 224 With more attractive charms, with radiance more divine.

Yes, here alone did highest Heav'n ordain The lasting magazine of charms, Whatever wins, whatever warms, Whatever fancy seeks to share, The great, the various, and the fair,Line 230 For ever should remain!

Her impulse nothing may restrain— Or whence the joy 'mid columns, tow'rs, 'Midst all the city's artful trim, To rear some breathless vapid flow'rs,Line 235 Or shrubs fuliginously grim? From rooms of silken foliage vain, To trace the dun far distant grove, Where, smit with undissembled pain, The woodlark mourns her absent love,Line 240 Borne to the dusty town from native air, To mimic rural life, and sooth some vapour'd fair?

But how must faithless Art prevail, Should all who taste our joy sincere, To virtue, truth, or science, dear,Line 245 Forego a court's alluring pale, For dimpled brook and leafy grove, For that rich luxury of thought they love!

Ah, no! from these the public sphere requires Example for its giddy bands;Line 250 From these impartial Heav'n demands To spread the flame itself inspires; To sift Opinion's mingled mass, Impress a nation's taste, and bid the sterling pass.

Happy, thrice happy they,Line 255 Whose graceful deeds have exemplary shone Round the gay precincts of a throne With mild effective beams! Who bands of fair ideas bring, By solemn grot or shady spring,Line 260 To join their pleasing dreams! Theirs is the rural bliss without alloy; They only that deserve enjoy.

What tho' nor fabled Dryad haunt their grove, Nor Naiad near their fountains rove?Line 265 Yet all embody'd to the mental sight, A train of smiling Virtues bright Shall there the wise retreat allow, Shall twine triumphant palms to deck the wand'rer's brow.

And tho' by faithless friends alarm'd, Art have with Nature wag'd presumptuous war,Line 271 By Seymour's winning influence charm'd, In whom their gifts united shine, No longer shall their councils jar. Line 275

'Tis her's to mediate the peace;Line 275 Near Percy-lodge, with awe-struck mien, The rebel seeks her lawful queen, And havoc and contention cease. I see the rival pow'rs combine, And aid each other's fair design;Line 280 Nature exalt the mound where Art shall build, Art shape the gay alcove, while Nature paints the field.

Begin, ye Songsters of the grove! O warble forth your noblest lay; Where Somerset vouchsafes to rove,Line 285 Ye Lev'rets! freely sport and play. —Peace to the strepent horn! Let no harsh dissonance disturb the Morn; No sounds inelegant and rude Her sacred solitudes profane,Line 290 Unless her candour not exclude The lowly shepherd's votive strain, Who tunes his reed amidst his rural cheer, Fearful, yet not averse, that Somerset should hear.Line 294

ODE TO INDOLENCE, 1750.

AH! why for ever on the wing Persists my weary'd soul to roam? Why, ever cheated, strives to bring Or pleasure or contentment home?

Thus the poor bird that draws his nameLine 5 From Paradise's honour'd groves, Careless fatigues his little frame, Nor finds the resting place he loves.

Lo! on the rural mossy bed My limbs with careless ease reclin'd;Line 10 Ah, gentle Sloth! indulgent spread The same soft bandage o'er my mind.

For why should ling'ring thought invade, Yet ev'ry worldly prospect cloy? Lend me, soft Sloth! thy friendly aid,Line 15 And give me peace, debarr'd of joy.

Lov'st thou yon' calm and silent flood, That never ebbs, that never flows, Protected by the circling wood From each tempestuous wind that blows?Line 20

An altar on its bank shall rise, Where oft' thy vot'ry shall be sound, What time pale Autumn lulls the skies, And sick'ning verdure fades around.

Ye busy Race! ye factious Train!Line 25 That haunt Ambition's guilty shrine, No more perplex the world in vain, But offer here your vows with mine.

And thou, puissant Queen! be kind: If e'er I shar'd thy balmy pow'r,Line 30 If e'er I sway'd my active mind To weave for thee the rural bow'r;

Dissolve in sleep each anxious care, Each unavailing sigh remove, And only let me wake to share The sweets of friendship and of love.Line 36

ODE TO A YOUNG LADY, Somewhat too solicitous about her manner of expression.

SURVEY, my Fair! that lucid stream Adown the smiling valley stray; Would Art attempt, or Fancy dream, To regulate its winding way?

So pleas'd I view thy shining hairLine 5 In loose dishevell'd ringlets flow; Not all thy art, not all thy care, Can there one single grace bestow.

Survey again that verdant hill, With native plants enamell'd o'er;Line 10 Say, can the painter's utmost skill Instruct one flow'r to please us more?

As vain it were, with artful dye, To change the bloom thy cheeks disclose; And, oh! may Laura, ere she try,Line 15 With fresh vermilion paint the rose.

Hark how the woodlark's tuneful throat Can every study'd grace excel; Let Art constrain the rambling note, And will she, Laura, please so well?Line 20

Oh! ever keep thy native ease, By no pedantic law confin'd; For Laura's voice is form'd to please, So Laura's words be not unkind.Line 24

WRITTEN IN A FLOWER BOOK Of my own colouring, designed for Lady Plymouth, 1753-4.

Debitae nymphis opifex coronae.HOR.

IMITATION.

Constructor of the tributary wreath For rural maids.

BRING, Flora, bring thy treasures here, The pride of all the blooming year, And let me thence a garland frame To crown this fair, this peerless, dame!

But, ah! since envious Winter lours,Line 5 And Hewell meads resign their flow'rs, Let Art and Friendship's joint essay Diffuse their flow'rets in her way.

Not Nature can, herself, prepare A worthy wreath for Lesbia's hair,Line 10 Whose temper, like her forehead, smooth, Whose thoughts and accents form'd to sooth, Whose pleasing mien, and make refin'd, Whose artless breast, and polish'd mind, From all the nymphs of plain or grove Deserv'd and won my Plymouth's love!

THE DYING KID.

Optima quaeque dies miseris mortalibus aevi Prima fugit—VIRG.

IMITATION.

Ah! wretched mortals we!—our brightest days On fleetest pinion fly.

A TEAR bedews my Delia's eye, To think yon' playful Kid must die; From crystal spring and flow'ry mead Must in his prime of life recede!

Erewhile, in sportive circles roundLine 5 She saw him wheel, and frisk, and bound; From rock to rock pursue his way, And on the fearful margin play.

Pleas'd on his various freaks to dwell, She saw him climb my rustic cell,Line 10 Thence eye my lawns with verdure bright, And seem all ravish'd at the sight.

She tells with what delight he stood To trace his features in the flood, Then skipp'd aloof with quaint amaze,Line 15 And then drew near again to gaze.

She tells me how with eager speed He flew to hear my vocal reed; And how, with critic face profound, And stedfast ear, devour'd the found.Line 20

His ev'ry frolic, light as air, Deserves the gentle Delia's care, And tears bedew her tender eye, To think the playful Kid must die.—

But knows my Delia, timely wise,Line 25 How soon this blameless era flies? While violence and craft succeed, Unfair design, and ruthless deed!

Soon would the vine his wounds deplore, And yield her purple gifts no more;Line 30 Ah! soon eras'd from ev'ry grove Were Delia's name and Strephon's love.

No more those bow'rs might Strephon see, Where first he fondly gaz'd on thee; No more those beds of flow'rets find,Line 35 Which for thy charming brows he twin'd.

Each wayward passion soon would tear His bosom, now so void of care, And when they left his ebbing vein, What but insipid age remain?Line 40

Then mourn not the decrees of Fate, That gave his life so short a date, And I will join my tend'rest sighs To think that youth so swiftly flies!Line 44

ODE.

SO dear my Lucio is to me, So well our minds and tempers blend, That seasons may for ever flee, And ne'er divide me from my friend; But let the favour'd boy forbearLine 5 To tempt with love my only fair.

O Lycon! born when ev'ry Muse, When ev'ry Grace, benignant smil'd, With all a parent's breast could chuse To bless her lov'd, her only child;Line 10 'Tis thine, so richly grac'd, to prove More noble cares than cares of love.

Together we from early youth Have trod the flow'ry tracks of time, Together mus'd in search of truth,Line 15 O'er learned sage or bard sublime; And well thy cultur'd breast I know, What wondrous treasure it can show.

Come, then, resume thy charming lyre, And sing some patriot's worth sublime,Line 20 Whilst I in fields of soft desire Consume my fair and fruitless prime; Whose reed aspires but to display The flame that burns me night and day.

O come! the Dryads of the woodsLine 25 Shall daily sooth thy studious mind, The blue-ey'd nymphs of yonder floods Shall meet and court thee to be kind; And Fame sits list'ning for thy lays To swell her trump with Lucio's praise.Line 30

Like me, the plover fondly tries To lure the sportsman from her nest, And flutt'ring on with anxious cries, Too plainly shews her tortur'd breast; O let him, conscious of her care, Pity her pains, and learn to spare.Line 36

ODE. To be performed by Dr. Brettle, and a chorus of Hales Owen citizens. The instrumental part a Viol d'Amour.

AIR BY THE DOCTOR.

AWAKE! I say, awake, good people! And be for once alive and gay; Come, let's be merry; stir the tipple; How can you sleep Whilst I do play? How can you sleep, &c.Line 5

CHORUS OF CITIZENS.

Pardon, O! pardon, great Musician! On drowsy souls some pity take, For wondrous hard is our condition, To drink thy beer, Thy strains to hear;Line 10 To drink, To hear, And keep awake!

SOLO BY THE DOCTOR.

Hear but this strain—'twas made by Handel, A wight of skill and judgment deep!Line 15 Zoonters, they're gone—Sal, bring a candle— No, here is one, and he's asleep.

DUETTE.

DR.—How could they go

[Soft music.

Whilst I do play? SAL.—How could they go!

[Warlike music.

How should they stay?