III. The Laplander, who, half the year, Is wrapt in fhades of night, Mourns not, like me, his winter drear, But what were light, without my love, The flowery meadow, field, or grove, If Damon be not mine? IV. Each moment, from my dear away, Fly fwift, ye hours, be calm the day, O hafte and bring him to my arms; Nor let us ever part: My breast shall beat no more alarms, Written Written to a near Neighbour in a tempestuous Night, 1748. By the Same. I. OU bid my Mufe not cease to fing, You You bid my ink not cease to flow; Then say it ever shall be spring, And boisterous winds fhall never blow: I'll fing of friendship, or of love. II. But now, alone, by storms opprest, No jocund pipe to ftill the found; III. In vain I call th' harmonious Nine, In vain implore Apollo's aid; ; While spleen and care my reft invade, Y 4 Say, Say, fhall we Morpheus next implore, IV. Wifely at least he'll stop my pen, And with his poppies crown my brow: To fleep unheard of than to glow XXXXXXX Written at a Ferme Ornee near Birmingham; August 7th, 1749. By the Same. IS Nature here bids pleasing scenes arise, And wifely gives them Cynthio, to revise: How well the bard obeys, each valley tells; The The GOLDFINCHES. An Elegy. T By Mr. JAG O. Ingenuas didiciffe fideliter artes you, whofe groves protect the feather'd quires, Who lend their artlefs notes a willing ear, To you, whom pity moves, and taste inspires, The Doric strain belongs; O Shenstone, hear. 'Twas gentle spring, when all the tuneful race, Through Nature's spacious walks at large they rang'd, 'Till on a day to weighty cares refign'd, With mutual choice, alternate, they agreed, But fettle foberly, and raise a breed. All All in a garden, on a currant-bush, With wond'rous art they built their waving feat: In the next orchat liv'd a friendly thrush, Here bleft with ease, and in each other bleft, And now what transport glow'd in either's eye! And future fonnets in the chirping brood! But ah! what earthly happiness can laft? The most ungentle of his tribe was he; No gen'rous precept ever touch'd his heart: With concords false, and hideous profody He fcrawl'd his task, and blunder'd o'er his part. |