Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB
[ocr errors]

Enough to rear fuch ruftic lays

"As foes may flight, but partial friends will praife."

VII

The gentle Air allow'd my claim;
And, more to chear my drooping frame,
She mix'd the balm of op'ning flowers;
Such as the bee, with chymic powers,
From Hybla's fragrant hill inhales,
Or fcent Sabea's blooming vales.

But ah! the Nymphs that heal the penfive mind,
By prefcripts more refin'd,

Neglect their votary's anxious moan:

Oh, how should They relieve?—the Mufes all were flown.
VIII.

By flowery plain, or woodland fhades,
I fondly fought the charming maids;
By woodland fhades, or flow'ry plain,
I fought them, faithlefs maids! in vain!
When lo! in happier hour,

I leave behind my native mead,

To range where zeal and friendship lead,
To vifit *****'s honor'd bower.

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,
Ah partial! with unwonted fires;
Here, hand in hand, with careless mien,
The sportive Graces trip the green.
X.

But whilft I wander'd o'er a scene so fair,
Too well at one furvey I trace,
How every Mufe, and every Grace,
Had long employ'd their care.

Lurks not a ftone enrich'd with lively stain,
Blooms not a flower amid the vernal store,
Falls not a plume on India's distant plain,
Glows not a fhell on Adria's rocky shore,
But torn methought from native lands or feas,
From their arrangement, gain fresh pow'r to please.
XI.

And fome had bent the wildering maze,
Bedeckt with every shrub that blows;
And fome entwin'd the willing sprays,
To fhield th' illuftrious Dame's repose:
Others had grac'd the fprightly dome,

And taught the portrait where to glow;
Others arrang'd the curious tome;
Or 'mid the decorated space,

Affign'd the laurel'd bust a place,

And given to learning all the pomp of show,
And now from every task withdrawn,
They met and frisk'd it o'er the lawn,

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?
XIII.

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.
She needs not your officious aid

To fwell the fong, or plan the fhade;
By genuine Fancy fir'd,

Her native Genius guides her hand,
And while fhe marks the fage command,
More lovely scenes her fkill fhall raife,

Her lyre refound with nobler lays
Than ever you infpir'd.

Thus I my rage and grief display;
But vainly blame, and vainly mourn,
Nor will a Grace or Mufe return

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 ftretch'd him on the moffy foil.
A vagrant Muse drew nigh, and found
'The subtle traitor fast asleep;

And is it thine to fnore profound,

She said, yet leave the world to weep
But hufh from this aufpicious hour,
The world, I ween, may rest in peace;
And robb'd of darts, and stript of pow'r,
Thy peevish petulance decrease.

Sleep on, poor child! whilft I withdraw,
And this thy vile artillery hide-

When the Caftalian fount fhe faw,
And plung'd his arrows in the tide.
That magic fount-ill-judging maid!
Shall caufe you foon to curfe the day
You dar'd the fhafts of Love invade ;

[blocks in formation]

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,
Dipt in the Mufe's myftic fpring,
Acquir'd new force to wound the heart;
And taught at once to love and fing.
Then farewell ye Pierian quire;

For who will now your altars throng?
From Love we learn to fwell the lyre;
And Echo asks no fweeter fong.

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,
Which beauty first convey'd.

In Clara's eyes, the lightnings view;
Her lips with all the rofe's hue

Have all its fweets combin'd;
Yet vain the blush, and faint the fire,
'Till lips at once, and eyes confpire

To prove the charmer kind

HOR.

Tho

« ZurückWeiter »