Then, with him, o'er hills and mountains, Fearless tafte the crystal fountains; Ruftics had been more forgiving; ODE to a Young Lady, Somewhat too follicitous about her manner of Expreffion. By the Same. SURVEY, my fair! that lucid stream Adown the smiling valley stray; Would art attempt, or fancy dream, So pleas'd I view thy fhining hair Survey again that verdant hill, As vain it were, with artful dye, To change the bloom thy cheeks disclose, And oh may Laura, ere she try, With fresh vermilion paint the rofe. Hark, how the wood-lark's tuneful throat Let art constrain the rambling note, Oh ever keep thy native ease, By no pedantic laws confin'd! For Laura's voice is form'd to please, VERSES Written towards the clofe of the Year 1748, to WILLIAM LYTTELTON, Efq; How By the Same, "OW blithely pass'd the fummer's day! While friends arriv'd, in circles gay, To vifit Damon's bow'r, But now, with filent step, I range Along fome lonely shore; And Damon's bow'r, alas the change! Away to crowds and cities borne Whilft I, alas! am left forlorn, To weep the parting year! O penfive O penfive Autumn! how I grieve When languid funs are taking leave Ah let me not, with heavy eye, Hafte, Winter, hafte; ufurp the fky; Ill can I bear the motley caft At home unblest, I gaze around, My diftant fcenes require; Where all in murky vapours drown'd Are hamlet, hill, and fpire. Though Thomson, fweet defcriptive bard! Infpiring Autumn fung: Yet how fhould we the months regard, That stopp'd his flowing tongue? Ah luckless months, of all the rest, For fure he was the gentleft breast That ever fung. fo well, And fee, the swallows now disown The roofs they lov'd before; The wood-nymph eyes, with pale affright, While hounds and horns and yells unite To drown the Mufe's reed, Ye fields with blighted herbage brown! Too much we feel from fortune's frown, Where is the mead's unfullied green ? The zephyr's balmy gale? And where fweet friendship's cordial mien, That brighten'd every vale? What |