Nor would exchange thy glowing lines,
To live the lord of all that fhines.

But let me chafe thofe vows away
Which at ambition's fhrine I made;
Nor ever let thy skill display

Thofe anxious moments, ill repaid:
Oh! from
my breaft that season rafe,
And bring my childhood in its place.

Bring me the bells, the rattle bring,
And bring the hobby I beftrode;
When, pleas'd in many a sportive ring,
Around the room I jovial rode:
Ev'n let me bid my lyre adieu,

And bring the whistle that I blew.

Then will I muse, and pensive say,
Why did not these enjoyments laft;
How sweetly wasted L the day,

While innocence allow'd to wafte!·
Ambition's toils alike are vain,

But ah! for pleasure yield us pain.

The PRINCESS ELIZABETH: A BALLAD alluding to a story recorded of her, when she was prifoner at WOODSTOCK, 1554.

WI ILL you hear how once repining

Great Eliza captive lay?

Each ambitious thought refigning,
Foe to riches, pomp, and sway.

While the nymphs and fwains delighted.
Tript around in all their pride;
Envying joys by others flighted,
Thus the royal maiden cry'd.

"Bred on plains, or born in vallies,
Who would bid thofe fcenes adieu?
Stranger to the arts of malice,

Who would ever courts purfue?

Malice never taught to treasure,
Cenfure never taught to bear:
Love is all the fhepherd's pleasure ;
Love is all the damfel's care.

How can they of humble station
Vainly blame the powers above?
Or accuse the dispensation

Which allows them all to love?

Love like air is widely given;

Power nor chance can these restrain;
Trueft, nobleft gifts of heaven!
Only pureft on the plain!

Peers can no fuch charms difcover,
All in ftars and garters dreft,
As, on Sundays, does the lover
With his nofegay on his breast.
Pinks and roses in profufion,

Said to fade when Chloe's near;
Fops may ufe the fame allufion;
But the fhepherd is fincere.

Hark

Hark to yonder milk-maid finging
Chearly o'er the brimming pail;
Cowflips all around her springing
Sweetly paint the golden vale.
Never yet did courtly maiden
Move so sprightly, look fo fair;
Never breaft with jewels laden
Pour a fong fo void of care.
Would indulgent heaven had granted
Me fome rural damfel's part!
All the empire I had wanted

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;

Peaceful fleep beneath the grove.

Ruftics had been more 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 folicitous about her manner of

expreffion.

URVEY, my fair! that lucid stream,

SURVE

Adown the fmiling valley stray; Would art attempt, or fancy dream,

To regulate its winding way?

Są

So pleas'd I view thy fhining hair
In loofe difhevel'd ringlets flow:
Not all thy art, not all thy care,
Can there one fingle grace bestow.
Survey again that verdant hill,

With native plants enamel'd o'er;
Say, can the painter's utmost skill
Inftruct one flower to pleafe us more?
As vain it were, with artful dye,

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

With fresh vermilion paint the rose.

Hark how the wood-lark's tuneful throat
Can every study'd grace

excel;

Let art constrain the rambling note,

And will the, Laura, please fo well?

Oh ever keep thy native cafe,

By no pedantic law confin'd!

For Laura's voice is form'd to please,
So Laura's words be not unkind.

NANCY of the

A

VALE.

BALL A D.

Nerine Galatea ! thymo mihi dulcior Hyblæ! "Candidior cygnis! hederâ formofior albâ !”

THE weftern sky was purpled oler
With every pleafing ray :

And flocks reviving felt no more

The fultry heats of day:

When

When from an hazle's artless bower

Soft warbled Strephon's tongue;
He bleft the fcene, he bleft the hour,
While Nancy's praife he fung.
"Let fops with fickle falfehood range
The paths of wanton love,

While weeping maids lament their change,

And fadden every grove:

But endless bleffings crown the day

I faw fair Efham's dale!

And every bleffing 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, fprung,

And glittering near its fide.

Fresh as the bordering flowers, her bloom:

Her

eye, all mild to view;

The little halcyon's azure plume

Was never half fo blue.

Her shape was like the reed so fleek,

So taper, ftrait, and fair;

Her dimpled fmile, her blushing cheek,

How charming fweet they were!

Far