Ye envious winds, the cause display, In whispers as ye blow, Why did your treacherous gales convey Did he not plant the fhady bower, And muft he leave the wood, the field, Can neither verfe nor virtue fhield Muft he his tuneful breath refign, That round his brow their laurels twine, Preferve him, mild Omnipotence ! Our Father, King, and God, Bleft power, who calm'ft the raging deep, Nor let the fons of Genius weep, Nor let the good deplore. But if thy boundless Wifdom knows His longer date an ill, Let not my foul a wifh difclofe To contradict thy will. For happy, happy were the change, For fuch a God-like mind, And though, to fhare his pleasures here, VERSES left on a SEAT, the Hand unknown. EARTH! to his remains indulgent be, Who fo much care and cost beftow'd on thee ! CORYDON, A PASTORAL. To the Memory of WILLIAM SHENSTONE, Efq; C OME, fhepherds, we 'll follow the hearfe, On On purpose he planted yon trees, That birds in the covert might dwell; His manners as mild as your own. No bloom on the bloffoms appear; His Phyllis was fond of his praise, So give me my Corydon's flute, And thus-let me break it in twain. M. S. GULIELMI SHENSTONE! Ah! Gulielme, Moribus gratiffimis, Eruditione diffusâ, Ac corde quam maxime benigno Prædite, Shalt pafs without thy meed, thou fon of peace CON CONTENT S. L ELEGIES on feveral Occafions. ELEGY I. He arrives at his retirement in the country, V. He compares the turbulence of love with the tranquillity of friendship. To Meliffa his friend. VI. To a Lady, on the language of Birds. VII. He defcribes his vifion to an acquaintance. IX. He defcribes his difinterestedness to a friend. 28 X. To fortune, fuggesting his motive for repining at |