L What though the vine difclofe her dyes, And boast her purple store; Not all the vineyard's rich fupplies Can foothe our forrows more. He! he is gone, whose moral strain He! he is gone, whofe focial vein Fast by the streams he deign'd to praise, In yon' fequefter'd grove, To him a votive urn I raise; To him, and friendly love. Yes there, my friend! forlorn and fad, I And there, his lyre; which fate forbad To found your growing fame. There shall my plaintive fong recount And, fafter than the dropping fount, I'll teach mine eyes to flow. Ther There leaves, in fpite of Autumn, green, But no kind funs will bid me share, Ah Spring! thou never canft repair SONG S. By the Same. I. Nav And rivulets murmur, and echoes refound, I vow'd to the Mufes my time and my care; As freedom infpir'd me, I rang'd and I sung; I fhould wish, unawares, that my Daphne might hear. With faireft ideas my bofom I ftor'd; Ah! whilft I the beauties of nature pursue, II. DAPHNE'S Vifit. E birds for whom I rear'd the grove, YE With melting lay falute my love: My Daphne with your notes detain : Ye flow'rs before her footsteps rife; Kind Zephyr! brush each fragrant flow'r, Or never more, O gentle wind, Shall I, from thee, refreshment find. Ye Ye ftreams! if e'er your banks I lov'd, And thou, my grot! whofe lonely bounds May Daphne praise thy peaceful gloom, III. The ROSE-BUD. EE, Flavia, fee that budding rofe, SEE How bright beneath the bush it glows; How fafely there it lurks conceal'd; The fun with warm attractive rays Then guard, my fair! your charms divine; While here more happy, more fecure. The The breath of fome neglected maid Shall make you figh you left the shade : As, to the rose, an eastern wind. The nymph reply'd, "You firft, my fwain, "What is, unheard, the tuneful thrill? "Or what, unknown, the poet's skill? "What, unadmir'd, a charming mien, "Or what the rofe's blufh, unfeen?" IV. Written in a Collection of Bacchanalian Songs. A DIEU, ye jovial youths, who join To plunge old Care in floods of wine; And, as your dazzled eye-balls roll, Not yet is hope fo wholly flown, And |