On BATHING. A SONNE T. By the Same. WHEN late the trees were stript by Winter pale, Fair HEALTH, a Dryad-maid in vesture green, Rejoyc'd to rove 'mid the bleak fylvan scene, The cryftal treasures of meek Ifis' stream; She fits amid the quire of Naiads trim, Το To Lady Hy. By Mr. de VOLTAIRE. H --Y would you know the paffion You have kindled in my breast, Trifling is the inclination That by words can be express'd. In my filence fee the lover, True love is by filence known; In my eyes you'll beft discover All the power of your own. On Sir ROBERT WALPOLE's Birth-day, AUGUST the 26th. By the Honourable Mr. D— -TON. LL hail, aufpicious day, whose wish'd return A Bids every breast with grateful ardor burn, His foul capacious, yet his judgment clear, Written in the Year 1744. AS, by fome tyrant's ftern command, A wretch forfakes his native land, In foreign climes condemn'd to roam Penfive Penfive he treads the deftin'd way, Companion of my tender age, Serenely gay, and sweetly fage, How blithsome were we wont to rove By verdant hill, or shady grove, Where fervent bees, with humming voice, Around the honey'd oak rejoice, And aged elms with aweful bend Then all was joyous, all was young, And years unheeded roll'd along: But But now the pleasing dream is o'er, These scenes must charm me now no more, Loft to the field, and torn from Farewel! a long, a last adieu. you, Me wrangling courts, and stubborn Law, To fmoak, and crowds, and cities draw ; There selfish Faction rules the day, And Pride and Av'rice throng the way: In frighted streets their orgies hold; Shakespear no more, thy fylvan fon, Pope's heav'n-ftrung lyre, nor Waller's ease, Nor Milton's mighty felf must please : Instead of these, a formal band In furs and coifs around me stand; With founds uncouth and accents dry |