Enough to rear fuch ruftic lays "As foes may flight, but partial friends will praife." VII The gentle Air allow'd my claim; But ah! the Nymphs that heal the penfive mind, Neglect their votary's anxious moan: Oh, how should They relieve?—the Mufes all were flown. By flowery plain, or woodland fhades, I leave behind my native mead, To range where zeal and friendship lead, Ah foolish man! to feek the tuneful maids On other plains, or near less verdant shades; IX. Scarce have my footsteps prefs'd the favor'd ground, When founds etherial strike my ear; At once celestial forms appear; My fugitives are found! The The Mufes here attune their lyres, But whilft I wander'd o'er a scene so fair, Lurks not a ftone enrich'd with lively stain, And fome had bent the wildering maze, And taught the portrait where to glow; Affign'd the laurel'd bust a place, And given to learning all the pomp of show, XII. Ah XII. Ah! woe is me, faid I; And **** 's hilly circuit heard me cry, Have I for this, with labour ftrove, And lavish'd all my little ftore To fence for you my fhady grove, And scollop every winding shore ; And fringe with every purple rofe, The saphire stream that down my valley flows? Ah! lovely treacherous maids! To quit unfeen my votive shades, When pale disease, and torturing pain Had torn me from the breezy plain, And to a restless couch confin'd, Who ne'er your wonted tasks declin'd. To fwell the fong, or plan the fhade; Her native Genius guides her hand, Her lyre refound with nobler lays Thus I my rage and grief display; Till LUXBOROUGH lead the way." An A NACREONTIC, By the Same. WAS in a cool Aonian glade, ́1738. 'The wanton Cupid, fpent with toil, Had fought refreshment from the fhade; And is it thine to fnore profound, She said, yet leave the world to weep Sleep on, poor child! whilft I withdraw, When the Caftalian fount fhe faw, redoubled fway. For, in a ftream fo wonderous clear, ? When angry Cupid fearches round, Will not the radiant points appear Will not the furtive fpoils be found? VOL. V. C Too NAY Too foon they were; and every dart, For who will now your altars throng? O D E. Written 1739. - By the Same. Urit fpes animi credula mutui. 'WAS not by beauty's aid alone. 'That love ufurp'd his airy throne, His boasted power display'd: "Tis kindness that fecures his aim, "Tis hope that feeds the kindling flame, In Clara's eyes, the lightnings view; Have all its fweets combin'd; To prove the charmer kind HOR. Tho |