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HOU who shalt stop, where Thames' translucent wave

Shines a broad mirrour through the shadowy cave, Where lingering drops from mineral roofs distill, And pointed crystals break the sparkling rill, Unpolish'd gems nó ray on pride bestow, And latent metals innocently glow: Approach. Great Nature ftudioully behold! And

eye the mine without a wish for gold. VOL. III.


Approach :

Approach: But aweful! Lo th’Egerian grott,
Where, nobly-pensive, St. John fate and thought;
Where British fighs from dying WYNDHAM stole,
And the bright flame was shot thro' MARCHMONT's fout.
Let such, such only, tread this facred floor,
Who dare to love their country, and be poor.

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By the late JAMES THOMSON, Efq; Author of the Seafons.

H Companion of the

Wile and good!

AIL, ever-pleasing Solitude !

Companion of the wise and good!
But, from whose holy, piercing eye,
The herd of fools, and villains fly.

Oh! how I love with thee' to walk!
And listen to thy whisper'd talk;
Which innocence, and truth imparts,
And melts the most obdurate hearts.

A thousand shapes you wear with ease,
And til in every shape you please;
Now rapt in fome mysterious dream,
A lone philofopher you seem ;
Now quick from hill to vale you fly,
And now you sweep the vaulted sky,
And nature triumphs in your eye:
Then strait again you court the shade,
And pining hang the penfive head.


A fhepherd

A shepherd next you haunt the plain,
And warble forth your oaten strain.
A lover now with all the

Of that sweet passion in your face!
Then, soft-divided, you affume
The gentle-looking H-d's bloom,
As, with her PHILOMELA, she,
(Her PhiloMELA fond of thee)
Amid the long withdrawing vale,
A wakes the rival'd nightingale.
A thousand fhapes you wear with ease,
And still in every thape you please,

Thine is th' unbounded breath of morng
Just as the dew-bent rose is born;
And while meridian fervors beat,
Thine is the woodland's dumb retreat ;
But chief, when evening scenes decay,
And the faint landskip swims away,
Thine is the doubtful dear decline.
And that beft hour of musing thine.

Descending angels bless thy train,
The virtues of the fage, and swain;
Plain Innocence in white array'd,
And Contemplation rears the head :
Religion with her aweful brow,

URANIA waits on you.
Oh, let me pierce thy secret cell!
And in thy deep receffes dwell :

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Æ O L U S’s H A R P. *

By the Same.

Therial race,

inhabitants of air !
Who hymn your God amid the secret grove ;
Ye unseen beings to my harp repair,

And raise majestic strains, or melt in love.

Æ ж


Those tender notes, how kindly they upbraid?

With what soft woe they thrill the lover's heart? Sure from the hand of fome unhappy maid

Who dy'd of love, these sweet complainings part.

* Æolus's Harp is a musical instrument, which plays with the wind, invenied by Mr. Oswald; its properties are fully described in the Castle of Indolence.

III. But

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