Add this but to your bounty's store,
This one great boon, I ask no more;
O gracious nymph! be kind as fair,
Nor with disdain neglect my pray❜r,
So shall your goodness be confess'd,
And I your slave entirely bless'd;
This pen no vulgar theme shall stain,
The noblest palm your gift shall gain,
To write to you, nor write in vain.

TO A YOUNG LADY,

WHO SPENT THE NIGHT IN TEARS, UPON A REPORT
THAT HER BROTHER WAS TO FIGHT A DUEL
NEXT MORNING.

PASTORA weeps, let every lover mourn;
Her grief is no less fatal than her scorn:
Those shining orbs inflict an equal pain,
O'erflown with tears, or pointed with disdain.
When doubts and fears invade that tender breast,
Where peace and joy and love should ever rest,
As flow'rs depriv'd of the sun's genial ray,
Earthward we bend, and silently decay;
In spite of all philosophy can do

Our hearts relent, the bursting torrents flow;
We feel her pains, and propagate her woe.
Each mournful Muse laments the weeping Fair,
The Graces all their comely tresses tear,
Love drags his wings, and droops his little head;
And Venus mourns, as for Adonis dead.

Patience, dear maid! nor without cause complain; O! lavish not those precious drops in vain :

Under the shield of your prevailing charms
Your happy brother lives secure from harms;
Your bright resemblance all my rage disarms.
Your influence unable to withstand,

The conscious steel drops from my trembling hand
Low at your feet the guilty weapon lies,
The foe repents, and the fond lover dies.
Eneas thus by men and gods pursued,

Feeble with wounds, defil'd with dust and blood,
Beauty's bright goddess interpos'd her charms,
And sav'd the hopes of Troy from Grecian arms.

TO A YOUNG LADY,

WITH THE ILIAD OF HOMER TRANSLATED.

;

Go, happy Volume! to the fair impart
The secret wishes of a wounded heart :
Kind advocate! exert thy utmost zeal,
Describe my passion, and my woes reveal.
Oft shalt thou kiss that hand where roses bloom,
And the white lily breathes its rich perfume;
On thee her eyes shall shine, thy leaves employ
Each faculty, and soothe her soul with joy.
Watch the soft hour when peaceful silence reigns,
And Philomel alone like me complains;
When envious prudes no longer haunt the fair,
But end a day of calumny in pray'r;

O'er Quarles or Bunyan nod, in dreams relent,
Without disguise give all their passions vent,
And mourn their wither'd charms, and youthful
prime mis-spent.

Then by the waxen taper's glimmering light With thee the studious maid shall pass the night;

Shall feel her heart beat quick in every page,
And tremble at the stern Pelides' rage;
With horror view the half-drawn blade appear,
And the desponding tyrant pale with fear;
To calm that soul untam'd, sage Nestor fails,
And ev'n celestial wisdom scarce prevails.
Then lead her to the margin of the main,
And let her hear the' impatient chief complain;
Toss'd with superior storms, on the bleak shores
He lies, and louder than the billows roars.
Next the dread scene unfold of war and blood,
Hector in arms triumphant, Greece subdued ;
The partial gods who with their foes conspire,
The dead, the dying, and the fleet on fire.
But tell, oh! tell the cause of all this woe,
The fatal source from whence these mischiefs flow;
Tell her 'twas love denied the hero fir'd,
Depriv'd of her whom most his heart desir'd.
Not the dire vengeance of the thundering Jove
Can match the boundless rage of injur'd love.
Stop the fierce torrent, and its billows rise,
Lay waste the shores, invade both earth and skies:
Confine it not, but let it gently flow,

It kindly cheers the smiling plains below,
And everlasting sweets upon its borders grow.

To Troy's proud walls the wondering maid convey,
With pointed spires and golden turrets gay,
The work of gods: thence let the fair behold
The court of Priam, rich in gems and gold;
His numerous sons, his queen's majestic pride,
The' aspiring domes, the' apartments stretching

wide,

Where on their looms Sidonian virgins wrought, And weav'd the battles which their lovers fought.

Here let her eyes survey those fatal charms,
The beauteous prize that set the world in arms;
Through gazing crowds, bright progeny of Jove,
She walks, and every panting heart beats love:
Ev'n sapless age new-blossoms at the sight,
And views the fair destroyer with delight.
Beauty's vast pow'r hence to the nymph make
In Helen's triumphs let her read her own; [known,
Nor blame her slaves, but lay the guilt on fate,
And pardon failings which her charms create.

Rash bard! forbear, nor let thy flattering Muse
With pleasing visions thy fond heart abuse ;
Vain are thy hopes presumptuous, vain thy pray'r,
Bright is her image, and divinely fair;

But, oh! the goddess in thy arms is fleeting air.
So dreams the' ambitious man, when rich Tokay,
Or Burgundy, refines his vulgar clay;

The white rod trembles in his potent hand,
And crowds obsequious wait his high command;
Upon his breast he views the radiant star,
And gives the word around him, peace or war:
In state he reigns, for one short busy night,
But soon convinc'd by the next dawning light,
Curses the fading joys that vanish from his sight.

TO THE RIGHT HON.

LADY ANNE COVENTRY,

Upon viewing her fine Chimney-piece of Shell-work.

THE greedy merchant ploughs the sea for gain,
And rides exulting o'er the watery plain,
While howling tempests, from their rocky bed,
Indignant break around his careful head.

The royal fleet the liquid waste explores,
And speaks in thunder to the trembling shores;
The voice of wrath awak'd the nations hear,
The vanquish'd hope, and the proud victors fear;
Those quit their chain, and these resign their palm,
While Britain's awful flag commands a calm.

The curious sage nor gain nor fame pursues,
With other eyes the boiling deep he views;
Hangs o'er the cliff, inquisitive to know
The secret causes of its ebb and flow;

Whence breathe the winds that ruffle its smooth face;
Or ranks in classes all the fishy race,

From those enormous monsters of the main,
Who in their world like other tyrants reign,
To the poor cockle tribe, that humble band,
Who cleave to rocks, or loiter on the strand.
Yet ev❜n their shells the forming hand divine
Has, with distinguish'd lustre, taught to shine.
What bright enamel! and what various dyes!
What lively tints delight our wondering eyes!
The' Almighty painter glows in every line.
How mean, alas! is Raphael's bold design,
And Titian's colouring, if compar'd to thine!
Justly Supreme! let us thy pow'r revere ;
Thou fill'st all space; all-beauteous every where.
Thy rising sun with blushes paints the morn,
Thy shining lamps the face of night adorn;
Thy flowers the meads, thy nodding trees the hills,
The vales thy pastures green, and bubbling rills
Thy coral groves, thy rocks, that amber weep,
Deck all the gloomy mansions of the deep;
The yellow sands distinct with golden ore,
And these, thy variegated shells, the shore.