Muft Delia's foftnefs, elegance, and ease,
Submit to Marian's drefs? to Marian's gold?
Muft Marian's robe from distant India please?
The fimple fleece my Delia's limbs enfold ?
Yet fure on Delia feems the ruffet fair;
"Ye glittering daughters of disguise, adieu!”
So talk the wife, who judge of shape and air,
But will the rural thane decide fo true?

Ah! what is native worth efteem'd of clowns ?
'Tis thy falfe glare, O fortune! thine they fee
'Tis for my Delia's fake I dread thy frowns,
And my last gafp fhall curfes breath on thee.

ELEGY XI.

He complains how foon the pleafing novelty of life is over. To Mr. JA GO.

AH me, my friend! it will not, will not laft!

This fairy-fcene, that cheats our youthful eyes

The charm diffolves; th' aerial mufic's paft;
The banquet ceafes, and the vifion flies.
Where are the fplendid forms, the rich perfumes,
Where the gay tapers, where the spacious dome
Vanish'd the coftly pearls, the crimson plumes,
And we, delightless, left to wander home!
Vain now are books, the fage's wisdom vain!
What has the world to bribe our steps astray,

Ere reafon learns by ftudy'd laws to reign,
The weaken'd paffions, felf-fubdued, obey.

Scarce has the fun feven annual courfes roll'd,

Scarce fhewn the whole that fortune can supply; Since, not the mifer fo carefs'd his gold,

As I, for what it gave, was heard to figh.

On the world's ftage I wifh'd some sprightly part;
To deck my native fleece with tawdry lace!
'Twas life, 'twas taste, and-oh my foolish heart;
Substantial joy was fix'd in power and place.
And you, ye works of art! allur'd mine

eye,

The breathing picture, and the living stone : "Though gold, though splendour, heaven and fate « deny,

"Yet might I call one Titian stroke my own!"
Smit with the charms of fame, whofe lovely spoil,
The wreath, the garland, fire the poet's pride,
I trim'd my lamp, confum'd the midnight oil-
But foon the paths of health and fame divide !
Oft too I pray'd, 'twas nature form'd the prayer,
To grace my native fcenes, my rural home;
To fee my trees exprefs their planter's care,

And gay, on Attic models, raise my dome.
But now 'tis o'er, the dear delufion 's o'er!
A ftagnant breezelefs air becalms my foul:
A fond afpiring candidate no more,

I fcorn the palm, before I reach the goal.
O youth! enchanting ftate, profufely bleft!
Blifs ev'n obtrusive courts the frolic mind;
Of health neglectful, yet by health careft;
Careless of favour, yet fecure to find.
D

Then

Then glows the breaft, as opening rofes fair;
More free, more vivid, than the linnet's wing;
Honeft as light, tranfparent ev'n as air,

Tender as buds, and lavish as the fpring.
Not all the force of manhood's active might,
Not all the craft to fubtle age affign'd,
Not fcience fhall extort that dear delight,
Which gay delufion gave the tender mind.
Adieu foft raptures, transports void of care!
Parent of raptures, dear deceit adieu !
And you, her daughters, pining with despair,
Why, why fo foon her fleeting fteps purfue!
Tedious again to curfe the drizling day!
Again to trace the wintry tracks of snow!
Or, footh'd by vernal airs, again furvey,
The felf-fame hawthorns bud, and cowflips blow!
O life! how foon of every bliss forlorn!

We start false joys, and urge the devious race : A tender prey; that chears our youthful morn, Then finks untimely, and defrauds the chace.

N

ELE GY XII.

His recantation.

O more the Mufe obtrudes her thin difguife!
No more with awkward fallacy complains,

How every fervour from my bosom flies,

And reafon in her lonesome palace reigns.

Ere

Ere the chill winter of our days arrive,

No more fhe paints the breast from passion free I feel, I feel one loitering with furvive

Ah, need I, Florio, name that wish to thee? The ftar of Venus ufhers in the day,

The first, the lovelieft of the train that shine! The ftar of Venus lends her brightest ray,

When other ftars their friendly beams refign. Still in my breast one soft defire remains,

Pure as that star, from guilt, from intereft free,
Has gentle Delia trip'd across the plains,

And need I, Florio, name that wish to thee?
While, cloy'd to find the fcenes of life the fame,
I tune with careless hand my languid lays ;
Some fecret impulfe wakes my former flame,
And fires my ftrain with hope of brighter days.
I flept not long beneath yon rural bowers;

And lo! my crook with flowers lorn'd I fee':
Has gentle Delia bound my crook with flowers,
And need I, Florio, name my hopes to thee?

To a Friend, on fome flight occafion eftranged from him.

HEALTH to my friend, and many a chearful day

Around his feat may peaceful fhades abide! Smooth flow the minutes, fraught with fmiles away, And, till they crown our union, gently glide.

Ah me! too fwiftly fleets our vernal bloom!

Loft to our wonted friendship, loft to joy! Soon may thy breast the cordial with refume,

Ere wintry doubt its tender warmth destroy, Say, were it ours, by fortune's wild command, By chance to meet beneath the torrid zone; Would't thou reject thy Damon's plighted hand? Would't thou with fcorn thy once-lov'd friend dif

Own?

Life is that stranger land, that alien clime:

Shall kindred fouls forego their focial claim? Launch'd in the vaft abyfs of space and time, Shall dark fufpicion quench the generous flame? Myriads of fouls, that knew one parent mold, See fadly fever'd by the laws of chance! Myriads, in time's perennial lift enroll'd, Forbid by fate to change one tranfient glance! But we have met-where ills of every form, Where paffions rage, and hurricanes defcend: Say, fhall we nurse the rage, affist the storm? And guide them to the bofom-of a friend! Yes, we have met-through rapine, fraud, and wrong: Might our joint aid the paths of peace explore! Why leave thy friend amid the boisterous throng, Ere death divide us, and we part no more? For oh! pale ficknefs warns thy friend away; For me no more the vernal rofes bloom!

I fee ftern fate his ebon wand display;

And point the wither'd regions of the tomb.

Then