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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,
That oil the tongue, and bow the knee,
That night her merit, but adore her place?
Far happier, if aright I deem, 'Tis nature only gives exclusive right
When from gay throngs, and gilded fpires,
To where the lonely halcyons play,
Her philofophic step retires :
She, to fome smooth sequester'd stream
Likens the swain's inglorious day;
Pleas'd from the flowery margin to survey,
How cool, serene, and clear, the current glidcs
o blind to truth, to virtue blind,
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;
The vaunted sweets of praise remove,
Yet ihall such bofoms claim a part
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,
To catch soft hints from nature's tongue,
And bid Arcadia bloom arouud :
Or smoothe below the verdant mead;
Or through meandering mazes lead;
Or in the horrid bramble's room
Bid careless groups of roses bloom ;
Or lét some shelter'd lake ferene
all the scene. To some lone hermit on the niountain's brow,
O sweet dispofal of the rural hour!
O beauties never known to cloy!
While worth and genius haunt the favour'd
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,
Speed whistling home across the plain;
See vagrant luxury, her hand-maid growi,
For half her graceless deeds atone,
And hails the bounteous work, and ranks it with
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
Why flows the pine's nectareous juice ?
For fuítenince alone? For use?
Some born to shun the folemn strife;
To sooth the certain ills of life;
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,
There had the lavish'd all her care
To form a scene more dazzling fair,
To share her proud control;
And, emulous of nature's power,
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
Shall see fair truth, immortal maid,
Honour and moral beauty shine
The lasting magazine of charms,
For ever should remain !
'Midst all the city's artful trim, To rear fone breathless vapid flowers
Or sharubs fuliginously grim :
The wood-lark mourns her absent love,
For dimpled brook and leafy grove,
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,
With mild effective beams !
To join their pleasing dreams!
They only that deferve, enjoy
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
Chang'd the complexion's native hue,
A while the fairy forms delight;
And now a loof we seem to fly
Where all his wonderous, all is bright:
A while cach dazzled maniac roves
groves. Paternal acrés please no more; Adieu the simple, the sincere delight
Th’habitual scene of hill and daic,
The fragrance of the bean's perfume,
we pierce the counterfeit deligat,
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;
As some fond lover, robb'd of sight,
On thy expressive power depends ; 'Tis her to mediate the peace;
Nor would exchange thy glowing lines,
To live the lord of all that shines.
But let me chase those vows away
Which at ambition's shrine I made;
Nor ever let thy skill display
Those anxious moments ill repaid:
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,
And bring the whistle that I blew.
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
The PRINCESS ELIZABETH,
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;
Preserv'f the blossoms of our prime;
With which my favour'd crook she bound;
Which then my fettive temples crown'd;
Where Iûs rolls her silver tide ;
omit one reed or flower
But sure, to soothe our youthful dreams,
Than other banks, than other streams :
When, all beneath the poplar bough,
I breath'd in verse one cordial vow:
hear how ance repining
Foe to riches, pomp, and tway.
Tript around in all their pride;
Thus the royal maiden cry'u.
Who would bid chofe scenes adieu ?
Who would ever courts pursue?
Censure never taught to bear :
Vainly blame the powers above?
Which allows them all to love?
Power nor chance can these restrain;
Only purelt on the plain!
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;
But the shepherd is fiocere.
Chearly o'er the brimming pail;
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.
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 :
The sultry heats of day.
Soft warbled Strephon's tongue ;
While Nancy's praise he fung. " Let fops with fickle falsehood range
The paths of wanton love,
And sadden every grove ;
I saw fair Elham's dale !
To Nancy of the Vale.
Diffus'd her lovely beams ,
The Naiad of the ftreams,
That floats on Avon's tide ;
And glittering near its side. Fresh as the bordering flowers, her bloom :
Her eye, all mild to view :
Was never half so blue.
So taper, strait, and fair ;
How charming sweet they were !
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;
Conduct my wandering feet!
But she would ne'er incline,
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.
Can every fiudy'd grace excel;
And will fne, Laura, please so well?
By no pedantic 'aw confin'd!
So Laura's words be not unkind.
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;
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;
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;
And fright the timorous game.
Is thought thy foe? adieu,
and deals no more with you.
Is it the clime you flee?
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!
That can thy loss repay?
Wert thou, alas! but kind,
Could sink my chearful mind.
Whate'er my stars include;
Should scorn-Ihgratitude !
Repair this mouldering cell,
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,