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Unpleas'd ye see the thickets bloon,

When deafen'd by the loud acclaim, Unpleas'd the spring her flowery robe resume ; Which genius grac'd with rank obtains, Unmov'd the mountain's airy pile,

Could the not more delighred hear The dappled mead without a smile.

Yon throttle chaunt the rising year? O let a rural conscious Muse,

Could he not spurn the wreaths of fame, For well she knows, your froward sense accuse: To crop the primrose of the plains !

Forth to the folemn oak you bring the square, Does she not sweets in each fair valley find, And span the maffy trunk, before you cry, 'tis Lost to the fons of power, unknown to half manfair.

kind ? Nor yet ye learn’d, nor yet ye courtly train, Ah, can she covet there to see li haply from your haunts ye firay

The splendid flaves, the reptile race,
To walte with us a summer's day.

That oil the tongue, and bow the knee,
Exclude the taste of every swain,

That night her merit, but adore her place?
Nor our untutor'd fense disdain :

Far happier, if aright I deem, 'Tis nature only gives exclusive right

When from gay throngs, and gilded fpires,
To relish her fupreme delight;

To where the lonely halcyons play,
She, where she pleases kind or coy,

Her philofophic step retires :
Who furnishes the scene, and forms us to enjoy. While, studious of the moral theme,
Then hither bring the fair ingenuous mind,

She, to fome smooth sequester'd stream

Likens the swain's inglorious day;
By her auspicious aid refind;

Pleas'd from the flowery margin to survey,
Lo! not an hedge-row hawthorn blows,
Or humble hare-beil paints che plain,

How cool, serene, and clear, the current glidcs
Or valley winds, or fountain flows,

Or purple heath is ting'd in vain :

o blind to truth, to virtue blind,
For such the rivers dash the foaming tides, Who flight the sweetly pensive mind !

The mountain sweells, the dale fubfides; On whose fair birth the Graces mild, Ev'n thristless furze detains their wandering And every Muse prophetic smild, sight,

Not that the poet's boasted fire And the rough barren rock grows pregnant with

Should fame's wide-echoing trumpet (well, delight.

Or, on the music of his lyre

Each future age with rapture dwell;
With what suspicious fearful care

The vaunted sweets of praise remove,
The sordid wretch secures his claim,

Yet ihall such bofoms claim a part
If haply some luxurious heir
Should alienate the fields that wear his

In all that glads the human heart ;

Yet these the spirits, form'd to judge and name!

prove What scruples lest some future birth

All nature's charms immense, and heaven's unShould litigate a span of earth!

bounded love, Bonds, contrads, stoffments, names unmeet for prose,

And oh ! the transport, most ally'd to song,
The towering Muse endures not to disclose ; In some fair villa's peaceful bound,
Alas! her unrevers'á decree,

To catch soft hints from nature's tongue,
More comprehensive and more free,

And bid Arcadia bloom arouud :
Her lavish charter, taste, appropriates all we see. Whether we fringe the floping hill,

Or smoothe below the verdant mead;
Let gondolas their painted flags unfold, Whether we break the falling rill,
And be the solemn day enrollid,

Or through meandering mazes lead;
When, to confirm his lofty plea,

Or in the horrid bramble's room
Iri nuptual fort, with bridal gold,

Bid careless groups of roses bloom ;
The grave Venetian weds the fea :

Or lét some shelter'd lake ferene
Each laughing Mule derides the vow; Refied flowers, woods, and spires, and brighteu
Ev'n Adria (corns the mock embrace,

all the scene. To some lone hermit on the niountain's brow,

O sweet dispofal of the rural hour!
Allotted, from his natal hour,
With all her myrtle shores ip dower.

O beauties never known to cloy!
His breast to admiration prone

While worth and genius haunt the favour'd

Enjoys the smile upon her face,
Enjoys triumphant every grace,

And every gentle breast partakes the joy ! And finds her more his own.

While charity at eve furveys the swain,

| Enabled by these inils to chcar Fatigu'd with form's oppressive laws,

A train of helpless infants dear,
When Somerset avoids the great ;

Speed whistling home across the plain;
When, cloy'd with merited applause,

See vagrant luxury, her hand-maid growi,
She feeks the rural calm recreat;

For half her graceless deeds atone,
Docs she not praise each moliy cell,

And hails the bounteous work, and ranks it with
And (cel the truth my numbers cell?

her own.


Why brand these pleasures with the name Of soft unfocial toils, of indolence and shame?

Search but the garden or the wood,

Let yon admir'd carnation own, Not all was meant for raiment, or for food,

Not ail for needful use alone; There while the feeds ef future blossoms dwell, 'iis colour'd for the fight, perfum'd to please the

V hy knows the nightingale to sing?

Why flows the pine's nectareous juice ?
Why shines with paint the linnet's wing?

For fuítenince alone? For use?
For preservation ? Every sphere
Shail bid fair pleasure's rightful claim appear.
And sure there fcem, of human kind,

Some born to shun the folemn strife;
Some for amusive tasks design'd,

To sooth the certain ills of life;
Grace its lonc vales with many a budding rose,

New founts of bliss disclose, Call forth refreshing shades, and decorate re

pore. From plains and woodlands ; from the view

Of rural nature's blooming face,

Smit by the glare of rank and place,
To courts the sons of sancy flow;
There long had art ordain'd a rival seat;

There had the lavish'd all her care

To form a scene more dazzling fair,
And call'd them from their green retreat

To share her proud control;
Had given the robe with grace to flow,
Had taught exotic gems to glow;

And, emulous of nature's power,
Mimick'd the plume, the leaf, the flow-

Pants for the scenes that charm'd her youthful

eyes, Where truth maintains her court, and banisses

disguise. Then 'hither oft ye lenators, retire,

With nature here high converse hold; For who like Stamford her delights admire,

Like Stamford shall with scorn behold
Th’unequal bribes of pageantry and gold;
Beneath the British oak's majestic Thade,

Shall see fair truth, immortal maid,
Friendship in artless guise array'd,

Honour and moral beauty shine
With more attractive charnis, with radiance

mora divine.
Yes, here alone did highest heaven ordain

The lasting magazine of charms,
Whatever wins, whatever warms,
Whatever fancy seeks to share
The great, the various, and the fair,

For ever should remain !
Her impulse nothing may restrain-
Or whence the joy 'mid columns, towers,

'Midst all the city's artful trim, To rear fone breathless vapid flowers

Or sharubs fuliginously grim :
from rooms of filken foliage vain,
To trace the dun far distant grove,
Where, îmit with undissembled pain,

The wood-lark mourns her absent love,
Borne to the dusty town from native air,
To mimic rural life, and southe fome vapour'd

But how must faithless art prevail,
should all who taste our joy sincere,
To virtue, truth, or science dear,
Forego a court's alluring pale,

For dimpled brook and leafy grove,
For that rich luxury of thought they love,
Ah no, from these the public sphere requires

Examples for its giddy bands :

From these impartial heaven demands To spread the flame itself inspires;

70 fift opinions mingled mass, Impress a nation's taste, and bid the tterling passe

Happy, thrice happy they,
Whese graceful deeds have excmplary hone
Round the gay prccincts of a throne,

With mild effective beams !
Who bands of fair ideas bring,
By folemn grot, or shady spring, ·

To join their pleasing dreams!
Theirs is the rural bliss without alloy,

They only that deferve, enjoy
What though nor fabled dryad haunt their

grove. Nor naiad near their fountain rove, Yet all embody'd to the mental light,

A train of smiling virtues bright

Shall there the wise retreat allow, Shall twine triumphant palms to deck the wan

derer's brow.


Chang'd the complexion's native hue,
Moulded each rutic limb anew,
And warp'd the very

A while her magic strikes the novel cye,

A while the fairy forms delight;

And now a loof we seem to fly
On purple pinions through a purer sky,

Where all his wonderous, all is bright:
Now landed on some spangled fhore

A while cach dazzled maniac roves
By saphire lakes, throu, h emerald

groves. Paternal acrés please no more; Adieu the simple, the sincere delight

Th’habitual scene of hill and daic,
The rural herds, the vernal gale,
The tangle'd vecch's purple bloom,

The fragrance of the bean's perfume,
Be theirs alone who cultivate the soil,
And drink the cup of thirst, and eat the bread of

But soon the pageant fades away!
?Tis nature only bears perpetual sway.

we pierce the counterfeit deligat,
Fatigued with splendor's irksome beams.
Fancy again demands the light
Of native groves and wonted streams,


And though by faithless friends alarm'd, That nothing Thould my foulénspire Att have with nature wag'd presumptuous But frienship warm, and love entire. war;

Dull to the sense of new delight, By Seymour's winning influence charm’d

On thee the drooping Muse attends;
In whom their gifts united shine,

As some fond lover, robb'd of sight,
No longer shall their counsels jar.

On thy expressive power depends ; 'Tis her to mediate the peace;

Nor would exchange thy glowing lines,
Near Percy-Lodge,

with awe-strucks

To live the lord of all that shines.
The rebel seeks her lawful queen,

But let me chase those vows away

Which at ambition's shrine I made;
And h.vock and contention ceale.
I see the rival powers combine,

Nor ever let thy skill display

Those anxious moments ill repaid:
And aid each other's fair design;
Nature exalt the mound where art shall build;

Oh from my breast that feafon rasę, Art shape the gay alcove, while nature paints the And bring my childhood in its place. ficld.

Bring nie the bells, the rattle bring, Begin, ye fongsters of the grove !

And bring the hobby I bestrode; O warble forth your noblest lay;

When, pleas'd in many a sportive ring, Where Somerset vouchsafes to rove,

Around the room I jovial rode :

Ev'n let me bid my lyre adieu,
Ye leverets, freely sport and play.
--Peace to the strepent horn!

And bring the whistle that I blew.
Let no harth disonance disturb the morn, Then will I muse, and pensive fay,
No sounds inelegant and rude

Why did not these enjoyments last; Her facred Solitudes profane !

How sweetly wasted I the day, U less her candour not exclude

While innocence allow'd to waste! The lowly Mepherd's votive strain,

Ambition's toils alike are vain, Who cunes his reed amidst his rural chear, But ah! for pleasure yield us pain. Fearful, yet not averse, that Somerset should



ODE to MEMORY. 1748.

A BALLAD alluding to a fiory recorded

of her, when she was prisoner at Woodstock, 1554.

O Memory lecceleftial maid!


Who glean'lt the flowerets crope by time;
And, suffering not a leaf to fade,

Preserv'f the blossoms of our prime;
Bring, bring those moments to my mind
When lifc was new, and Lesbia kind.
And bring that garland to my fight,

With which my favour'd crook she bound;
And bring that wreath of roses bright

Which then my fettive temples crown'd;
And to my raptur'd ear convey
The gentle things the deign'd to say.
And sketch with care the Muse's bower,

Where Iûs rolls her silver tide ;
Nor yet

omit one reed or flower
That shines on Cherweil's verdant fide ;
If so thou may'lt those hours prolong,
When polith'd Lycon join d my song.
The song it ’vails not to recite-

But sure, to soothe our youthful dreams,
Those banks and streams appear'd more bright

Than other banks, than other streams :
Or, by the softening pencil fhewo,
Affume thy beauties not their own?
And paint that sweetly vacant scene,

When, all beneath the poplar bough,
My spirits light, my soul lerene,

I breath'd in verse one cordial vow:


hear how ance repining
Great Eliza captive lay?
Each ambitious thought resigning,

Foe to riches, pomp, and tway.
While the nymphs and swains delighted

Tript around in all their pride;
Envying joys by others llighted,

Thus the royal maiden cry'u.
“ Bred on plains, or born in vallies,

Who would bid chofe scenes adieu ?
Stranger to the arts of malice,

Who would ever courts pursue?
Malice never taught to treasure,

Censure never taught to bear :
Love is all the shepherd's pleasure ;
Love is all

damsel's care.
How can they of humble station

Vainly blame the powers above?
Or accule the dispensation

Which allows them all to love?
Love like air is widely given,

Power nor chance can these restrain;
Trueft, noblest gifcs of heaven!

Only purelt on the plain!


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Peers can no such charms discover,

All in stars and garters drest, As, on Sundays, does the lover

With his nolegay on his breaft. Pinks and roses in profusion,

Said to fade when Chloe's near;
Fops may use the same allusion;

But the shepherd is fiocere.
Hark to yonder milk-maid singing

Chearly o'er the brimming pail;
Cowflips all around her springing

Sweetly paint the golden vale. Never yet did courtly maiden

Move fo sprightly, look so fair; Never breast with jewels laden

Pour a song so void of care. Would indulgent heaven had granted

Me fome rural damsel's part ! All the empire I had waited

Then had been my fhepherd's heart. Then, with him, o'er hills and mountains,

Free from fetters, might I rove: Fearless taste the crystal fountains;

Peaecful sleep beneath the grove. Rustics had leen niore forgiving;

Partial to my virgin bloom : None had envy'd me when living;

None had triumph'd o'er my tomb.

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ODE to a young LADY,

Somewhat too folicitious about her man

ner of expreffion.

HE western sky was purpled o'er

With every pleasing ray :
And flocks reviving felt no more

The sultry heats of day.
When from an bazle's artless bower'

Soft warbled Strephon's tongue ;
He bleft the scene, he bleft the hour,

While Nancy's praise he fung. " Let fops with fickle falsehood range

The paths of wanton love,
While weeping maids lament their change,

And sadden every grove ;
But endless blessings crown the day

I saw fair Elham's dale !
And every blessing find its way

To Nancy of the Vale.
'Twas from Avona's banks the maid

Diffus'd her lovely beams ,
And every shining glance display'd

The Naiad of the ftreams,
Soft as the wild-duck's tender young,

That floats on Avon's tide ;
Bright as the water-lily, sprung,

And glittering near its side. Fresh as the bordering flowers, her bloom :

Her eye, all mild to view :
The little halcyon's azore plume

Was never half so blue.
Her shape was like the rced so fleek,

So taper, strait, and fair ;
Her dimpled smile, her blushing cheek,

How charming sweet they were !
Far in the winding vale retir'd,

This peerless bud I found; And shadowing rock and woods conspir'd

To sence her beauties round. That nature in so lone a dell

Should from a nymph io sweet;
Or fortune to her secret cell

Conduct my wandering feet!
Gay lordlings fought her for their bride,

But she would ne'er incline,
“ Prove to your equals true, she cry'd,

As I would prove to mine. 'Tis Strephon, on the mountain's brow,

Has won niy right good will ; To him I gave my plighted vow,

With him I'll climb the hill." Struck with her charms and gentle truth,

I clafp'd the constant fair; To her alone I gave my youth,

And vow my future care.


URVEY, my fair! that lucid fream,

Adown the smiling valley ftray; Would art attempt, or fancy dream,

To regulate its winding way? So pleas'd I view thy shining hair

In loose difheveld ringlets flow: Not all thy art, not all thy care,

Can there one fingle grace bestow. Survey again that

verdant hill, With native planes enameld o'er; Say, can the painter s utmost skill

Instruct one flower to please us more į As vain it were, with artful dye,

To change the bloom thy cheeks disclose; And oh may Laura, ere the try,

With fresh vermilion paint the rose.
Hark how the wood-lark's tuneful throat

Can every fiudy'd grace excel;
Let are constrain che rambling note,

And will fne, Laura, please so well?
Oh ever keep thy native ease,

By no pedantic 'aw confin'd!
For Lausa's voice is form’d to please,

So Laura's words be not unkind.


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H! why for ever on the wing

Persists my wearied soul to roam? Why, ever cheated, strives to bring

Or pleasure or contentment home? Thus the poor bird, that draws his name

From paradise's honour'd groves, Careless fatigues his little frame;

Nor finds the resting place he loves. Lo! on the rural mossy bed

My limbs with careless ease reclin'd; Ah, gentle sloth! indulgent spread

The same soft bandage o'er my mind For why should lingering thought invade,

Yet every worldly prospect cloy? Lend me, soft flo:h, thy friendly aid,

And give me peace, debarr'd of joy. Lov'st thou yon calm and ülent flood,

That never ebbs, that never flows; Protected by the circling wood

From each tempestuous wind that blows ? An altar on its bank shall rise,

Where oft thy votary shall be found; What time pale autumn lulls the skies,

And fickening verdure sades around. Ye busy race, ye factious train,

That haunt ambition's guilty shrine; No more perplex the world in vain,

But offer here your vows with mine. And thou, -puissant queen! be kind :

If e'er i shar'd thy balmy power ; If e'er I sway'd my active niind

To weave for thee the rural bower ; Dissolve in sleep each anxious care;

Each unavailling figh remove; And only let me wake to hare,

The sweets of frienüship and of love.

Age not forbids thy stay;
Thou yet might'it act the friendly part;
Thou yet might'It raise this languid heart;

Why speed so swift away?

Thou scorn'st the city-air; I breathe fresh gales o'er furrow'd ground, Yet hast not thou my wishes crown'd,

O false! O partial fair !

I plunge into the wave;
And though with purest hand I raise
A rural altar to thy p: aise,

Thou wilt not deign to save.

Amid my well-known grove, Where mineral fountains vainly bear The boasted name, and titles fair,

Why scorns thy foot to rove?

Thou hear'st the sportsman's claim;
Enabling him, with idle noise,
To drown the Muse'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, 'midf his unremitting snows,
The poor Laponian's bofom glows;

And shares bright rays from thee.

There was, there was a time, When, though I scorn'd thy guardian care, Nor made a vow, nor said a prayer,

I did not rue the crimc.

Who then more ble it than I? When the glad school-boy's task was done, And forth, with jocund sprite, I run

To frecdom, and to joy?

How jovial then the day!
What since have all my labours found,
Thus climbing life, to gaze around,

That can thy loss repay?

Wert thou, alas! but kind,
Methinks no frown that fortune wears,
Nor lessen'd hopes, nor growing cares,

Could sink my chearful mind.

Whate'er my stars include;
What other breasts convert to pain,
My towering mind shall soon disdain,

Should scorn-Ihgratitude !

Repair this mouldering cell,
And bleft with objects found at home,
And envying none theirfairer dome,

How pleas'd my soul should dwell;

Teinperance should guard the doors; From room to room should memory Atray, And ranging all in neat array,

Enjoy her pleasing stores

There let them rest unknown,
The types of many a pleasing lceae :
But to preserve them bright or clean,
'Is thine, fair Queen ! alone.


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