ØDE ON THE SPRING. L O! where the rofy-bofom'd hours, Disclose the long-expecting flowers, The Attic warbler pours her throat, Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch Where'er the rude and mofs-grown beech Befide fome water's rufhy brink With me the Muse shall fit, and think (At eafe reclin❜d in ruftic state) O'er-canopied with luscious woodbine. SHAKESP. MIDS. NIGHT'S DREAM. Still is the toiling hand of Care: The panting herd's repose: Yet hark, how through the peopled air The bufy murmur glows! The infect youth are on the wing, To contemplation's fober eye t And they that creep, and they that fly, Alike the Bufy and the Gay But futter through life's little day. * "Nare per æftatem liquidam" + VIRG. GEORG. LIB. IV. Sporting with quick glance Shew to the fun their waved coats drop'd with gold. While infects from the threshold preach, &c. M. GREEN, IN THE GROTTO. DODSLEY'S MISCELLANIES, VOL. V. P. 161. Methinks Methinks I hear in accents low Poor Moralift! and what art thou? A folitary fly! Thy joys no glittering female meets, "TWAS on a lofty vafe's fide, Where China's gayeft art had dy'd The azure flowers, that blow; Gaz'd on the lake below. Her conscious tail her joy declar'd; The velvet of her paws, Her coat, that with the tortoife vies, Still had she gaz'd; but 'midst the tide Their fcaly armour's Tyrian hue The The hapless Nymph with wonder faw: She stretch'd in vain to reach the prize. Prefumptuous Maid! with looks intent Eight times emerging from the flood No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirr'd; From hence, ye beauties, undeceiv'd, Not all, that tempts your wandering eyes ODE |