Who then more bleft than I?
When the glad school-boy's task was done,
And forth, with jocund fprite, I run
To freedom, and to joy?
How jovial then the day!
What fince have all my labours found,
Thus climbing life, to gaze around,
That can thy lofs repay
Wert thou, alas! but kind,
Methinks no frown that fortune wears,
Nor leffen'd hopes, nor growing cares,
Could fink my chearful mind.
Whate'er my stars include;
What other breafts convert to pain,
My towering mind fhall foon disdain,
Should fcorn-Ingratitude!
Repair this mouldering cell,
And bleft with objects found at home,
And envying none their fairer dome,
How pleas'd my foul fhould dwell;
Temperance fhould guard the doors;
From room to room should memory stray,
And ranging all in neat array,
Enjoy her pleafing stores—
There let them reft unknown,
The types of many a pleasing scene:
But to preserve them bright or clean,
Is thine, fair Queen! alone.
H! what is fcience, what is art,
Or what the pleasure these impart ?
Ye trophies, which the learn'd pursue
Through endlefs fruitlefs toils, adieu!
What can the tedious tomes bestow,
To foothe the miferies they fhew?
What, like the blifs for him decreed,
Who tends his flock, and tunes his reed!
Say, wretched fancy! thus refin'd
From all that glads the simpleft hind,
How rare that object which supplies
A charm for too discerning eyes!
The polish'd bard, of genius vain,
Endures a deeper sense of pain:
As each invading blaft devours
The richest fruits, the faireft flowers.
Sages, with ink fome wafte of time,
The steep afcent of knowledge climb;
Then from the towering heights they scale.
Behold contentment range-the vale.
Yet why, Afteria, tell us why
We fcorn the crowd, when you are nigh;
Why then does reafon feem fo fair,
Why learning, then, deferve our care?
Ye bufy race, ye factious train,
That haunt ambition's guilty fhrine;
No more perplex the world in vain,
But offer here your vows with mine.
And thou, puissant queen! be kind :
If e'er I fhar'd thy balmy power;
If e'er I fway'd my active mind
To weave for thee the rural bower;
Diffolve in fleep each anxious care;
Each unavailing figh remove;
And only let me wake to share,
The sweets of friendship and of love.
HEALTH, capricious maid!
Why doft thou fhun my peaceful bower, Where I had hope to fhare thy power,
And bless thy lasting aid?
Since thou, alas! art flown,
It 'vails not whether Muse or Grace,
With tempting fmile, frequent the place:
I figh for thee alone.
Age not forbids thy ftay;
Thou yet might'ft act the friendly part;
Thou yet might'ft raise this languid heart;
Why fpeed fo fwift away?
Thou fcorn'ft the city-air;
I breathe fresh gales o'er furrow'd ground,
Yet haft not thou my wishes crown'd,
O falfe! O partial fair!
I plunge into the wave;
And though with pureft hand I raise
A rural altar to thy praise,
Thou wilt not deign to fave.
Amid my well-known grove,
Where mineral fountains vainly bear
Thy boafted name, and titles fair,.
Why fcorns thy foot to rove?
Thou hear'st the sportsman's claim;
Enabling him, with idle noise,
To drown the Mufe's melting voice,
And fright the timorous game.
Is thought thy foe? adieu,
Ye midnight lamps! ye curious tomes!
Mine eye o'er hills and valleys roams,
And deals no more with you.
Is it the clime you flee?
Yet, 'midst his unremitting fnows,
The poor Laponian's bofom glows;
And fhares bright rays from thee.
There was, there was a time,
When, though I fcorn'd thy guardian care,
Nor made a vow, nor faid a prayer,
I did not rue the crime.
Who then more bleft than I?
When the glad school-boy's task was done,
And forth, with jocund fprite, I run
To freedom, and to joy?
How jovial then the day!
What fince have all my labours found,
Thus climbing life, to gaze around,
That can thy lofs repay ?
Wert thou, alas! but kind,
Methinks no frown that fortune wears,
Nor leffen'd hopes, nor growing cares,
Could fink my chearful mind.
Whate'er my stars include;
What other breafts convert to pain,
My towering mind fhall foon difdain,
Should fcorn-Ingratitude!
Repair this mouldering cell,
And bleft with objects found at home,
And envying none their fairer dome,
How pleas'd my foul fhould dwell;
Temperance fhould guard the doors;
From room to room should memory ftray,
And ranging all in neat array,
Enjoy her pleafing stores
There let them reft unknown,
The types of many a pleafing scene:
But to preferve them bright or clean,
Is thine, fair Queen! alone.
|