Far in the winding vale retir'd,

This peerless bud I found;

And fhadowing rock and woods confpir'd
To fence her beauties round.

That nature in fo lone a dell

Should form a nymph fo fweet; Or fortune to her fecret cell

Conduct my wandering feet!

Gay lordlings fought her for their bride,
But fhe would ne'er incline:
"Prove to your equals true, fhe cry'd,
As I will prove to mine.

"Tis Strephon, on the mountain's brow,
Has won my 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 clasp'd the constant fair ;
To her alone I gave my youth,
And vow my future care.

And when this vow fhall faithless prove,
Or I thofe charms forego;

The ftream that faw our tender love,

That ftream fhall ceafe to flow.

ODE

ODE to INDOLENCE. 1750.

A

H! why for ever on the wing

Perfifts my wearied foul to roam ›
Why, ever cheated, ftrives to bring
Or pleasure or contentment home?
Thus the poor bird, that draws his name
From paradife's honour'd groves,
Careless fatigues his little frame;
Nor finds the refting-place he loves.
Lo! on the rural moffy bed

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

The fame foft bandage o'er my mind.
For why fhould lingering thought invade,
Yet every worldly prospect cloy?
Lend me, soft sloth, thy friendly aid,

And give me peace, debarr'd of joy.

Lov'st thou yon calm and filent flood,
That never ebbs, that never flows;
Protected by the circling wood

From each tempeftuous wind that blows?
An altar on its bank fhall rife,

Where oft thy votary shall be found; What time pale autumn lulls the skies, And fickening verdure fades around. H

Ye

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, puiffant 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.

ODE to HEALTH. 1730.

HEALTH, capricious maid!

Why dost thou shun my peaceful bower,
Where I had hope to share thy power,
And blefs thy lasting aid?

Since thou, alas! art flown,

It 'vails not whether Mufe or Grace,
With tempting fmile, frequent the place
I figh for thee alone.

Age not forbids thy stay;

Thou yet might'ft act the friendly part;
Thou yet might'ft raise this languid heart;
Why fpeed fo fwift away?

Thos

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 praife,

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'ft the sportsman's claim;
Enabling him, with idle noife,
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, 'midft 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.

H 2

Who

388272A

Who then more bleft than I?

When the glad fchool-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 loss 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 ftars 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 soul should 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 pleafing fcene:
But to preserve them bright or clean,

Is thine, fair Queen! alone.

Το