To DELIA, with fome flowers; complaining how much bis benevolence Suffers on account of bis humble fortune.

W

Hate'er could fculpture's curious art employ,

Whate'er the lavish hand of wealth can fhow'r, These would I give-and every gift enjoy

That pleas'd my fair-but fate denies the pow'r..

Bleft were my lot, to feed the focial fires!
To learn the latent wishes of a friend!

To give the boon his native taste admires,
And, for my transport, on his fmile depend!

Bleft too is he, whofe ev'ning ramble strays
Where droop the fons of indigence and care!
His little gifts their gladden'd eyes amaze,
And win, at fmall expence, their fondeft pray'r!

And oh the joy! to fhun the confcious light,

To spare the modeft blufh; to give unfeen! Like fhow'rs that fall behind the veil of night,

Yet deeply tinge the fmiling vales with green.

But

But happieft they, who drooping realms relieve!
Whose virtues in our cultur'd vales appear!
For whose fad fate a thousand fhepherds grieve,
And fading fields allow the grief fincere.

To call loft worth from its oppressive shade;
To fix its equal sphere, and fee it shine;
To hear it grateful own the generous aid;
This, this is tranfport-but muft ne'er be mine.

Faint is my bounded bliss; nor I refuse

To range where daizies open, rivers roll; While profe or fong the languid hours amuse, And foothe the fond impatience of my foul.

Awhile I'll weave the roofs of jasmin bow'rs,
And urge with trivial cares the loit'ring year;
Awhile I'll prune my grove, protect my flow'rs,
Then, unlamented, prefs an early bier!

Of thofe lov'd flow'rs the lifeless corfe

may

fhare;

Some hireling hand a fading wreath bestow; The reft will breathe as fweet, will glow as fair, As when their mafter fmil'd to fee them glow.

The fequent morn fhall wake the filvan quire;
The kid again fhall wanton ere 'tis noon;
Nature will fmile, will wear her best attire;
O! let not gentle DELIA fmile fo foon!

While the rude hearfe conveys me flow away,
And careless eyes my vulgar fate proclaim,
Let thy kind tear my utmost worth o'erpay;
And, foftly fighing, vindicate my fame.-

O DELIA! chear'd by thy fuperior praise,
I bless the filent path the fates decree;
Pleas'd, from the lift of my inglorious days,
To raze the moments crown'd with blifs, and thee.

ELEGY

ELEGY

XXVI.

Defcribing the forrow of an ingenuous mind, on the melancholy event of a licentious amour.

WHY mourns my friend! why weeps his downcast eye?

That eye where mirth, where fancy us'd to shine? Thy chearful meads reprove that fwelling figh; Spring ne'er enamel'd fairer meads than thine.

Art thou not lodg'd in fortune's warm embrace?
Wert thou not form'd by nature's partial care?
Bleft in thy fong, and bleft in ev'ry grace

That wins the friend, or that enchants the fair?

DAMON, faid he, thy partial praise restrain;

Not DAMON's friendship can my peace restore; Alas! his very praise awakes my pain,

And my poor wounded bofom bleeds the more.

For oh! that nature on my birth had frown'd!
Or fortune fix'd me to fome lowly cell!
Then had my bofom 'fcap'd this fatal wound,
Nor had I bid these vernal sweets, farewel.

But led by fortune's hand, her darling child,
My youth her vain licentious blifs admir'd;
In fortune's train the fyren flatt'ry smil❜d,
And rafhly hallow'd all her queen infpir'd.
VOL. I.

H

Of

Of folly ftudious, ev'n of vices vain,
Ah vices! gilded by the rich and gay
I chas'd the guilelefs daughters of the plain,
Nor dropt the chace, till JESSY was my prey.

Poor artless maid! to ftain thy fpotlefs name,
Expence, and art, and toil, united strove;
To lure a breast that felt the purest flame,
Suftain'd by virtue, but betray'd by love.

School'd in the science of loves mazy wiles,

I cloath'd each feature with affected fcorn; I spoke of jealous doubts, and fickle fmiles,

And, feigning, left her anxious and forlorn.

Then, while the fancy'd rage alarm'd her care,
Warm to deny, and zealous to disprove;
I bade my words the wonted foftness wear,
And feiz'd the minute of returning love.

To thee, my DAMON, dare I paint the reft?
Will yet thy love a candid ear incline?
Affur'd that virtue, by misfortune preft,
Feels not the sharpnefs of a pang like mine.

Nine envious moons matur'd her growing fhame; Ere while to flaunt it in the face of day; When scorn'd of virtue, ftigmatiz'd by fame, Low at my feet defponding JESSY lay.

" HENRY,