FOR SONG. OR ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove And when we meet a mutual heart, Bid us figh on from day to day, But bufy bufy ftill art thou, For once, O Fortune, hear my prayer, All other bleffings I refign, Make but the dear Amanda mine. COM SONG. OME, gentle God of foft defire, Not fury-like in flames and fire, Or frantic folly's wildness dreft; But come in friendship's angel-guife: More tender spirit in thy eyes, T 2 O come with goodness in thy train, With peace and pleasure void of storm, O D E. Nightingale, beft poet of the grove, That plaintive ftrain can ne'er belong to thee, Bleft in the full poffeffion of thy love: O lend that ftrain, fweet Nightingale, to me! 'Tis mine, alas! to mourn my wretched fate; You, happy birds! by Nature's fimple laws You dwell wherever roving fancy draws, And love and fong is all your pleasing care: But we, vain flaves of int'reft and of pride, O mourn with me, fweet bird, my hapless flame. THE wanton's charms, however bright, Are like the false illufive light, Whose flattering unaufpicious blaze To precipices oft betrays: But that sweet ray your beauties dart, Which clears the mind, and cleans the heart, Is like the facred queen of night, Who pours a lovely gentle light Wide o'er the dark, by wanderers bleft, A vicious love depraves the mind, Around the heav'n-illumin'd head. And heaven infus'd into the mind. Thereal race, inhabitants of air, Who hymn your God amid the fecret grove; Ye unfeen beings to my harp repair, And raise majestic strains, or melt in love. Thofe tender notes, how kindly they upbraid, With what soft woe they thrill the lover's heart! Sure from the hand of fome unhappy maid, Who dy'd of love, thefe fweet complainings part. But hark! that strain was of a graver tone, On the deep ftrings his hand fome hermit throws; Or he the facred Bard +; who fat alone, In the drear wafte, and wept his people's woes. Such was the fong which Zion's children fung, Methinks I hear the full celestial choir, Thro' heaven's high dome their awful anthem raise ; Now chanting clear, and now they all conspire To fwell the lofty hymn, from praise to praise. Let me, ye wand'ring spirits of the wind, Who, as wild fancy prompts you, touch the ftring, Smit with your theme, be in your chorus join'd, For till you ceafe, my Mufe forgets to fing. * Eolus's Harp is a mufical inftrument which plays with the wind, invented by Mr. Ofwald; its properties are fully defcribed in the Castle of Indolence. † Jeremiah. H Y M N ON SOLITUDE. HAIL, mildly pleafing Solitude, Companion of the wife and good; But from whofe holy, piercing eye, The herd of fools, and villains fly. Oh! how I love with thee to walk, And liften to thy whisper'd talk, Which innocence, and truth imparts, And melts the moft obdurate hearts. A thousand fhapes you wear with ease, And ftill in every fhape you please. Now wrapt in fome myfterious dream, A lone philofopher you feem; Now quick from hill to vale you fly, And now you sweep the vaulted fky. A fhepherd next, you haunt the plain, And warble forth your oaten strain, A lover now, with all the grace Of that sweet paffion in your face: Then, calm'd to friendship, you assume The gentle-looking HARFORD's bloom, As, with her MUSIDORA, fhe (Her MUSIDORA fond of thee) Amid the long withdrawing vale, Thine is the balmy breath of morn, Just as the dew-bent rofe is born; |