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No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his trailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose)
The bosom of his Father and his God.
As wilder'd and wearied I roam,
And leads me o'er lawns to her home.
Yellow sheaves from richCeresher cottagehadcrown'd,
Green rushes were strew'd on her floor, Her casement sweet woodbines crept wantonly round,
And deck'd the sod seats at her door, .
We sat ourselves down to a cooling repast,
Fresh fruits !--and she culld me the best; Whilst, thrown from my guard by some glances she cast,
Love slily stole into my breast.
Her air was so modest, her aspect so meek,
So simple, yet sweet were her charms,
And lock'd the lov'd maid in my arms.
Now jocund together we tend a few sheep;
And if-on the banks by the stream, Reclin'd on her bosom, I sink into sleep, .
Her image still softens my dream.
Together we range o'er the slow-rising hills,
Delighted with pastoral views,
And mark out new themes for my Muse.
To pomp or proud titles she ne'er did aspire,
The damsel's of humble descent;
And shepherds have nam'd her, Content.
A PRAYER FOR
BY MRS. GREVILLE.
Oft I've implor'd the gods in vain,
And pray'd till I've been weary; For once I'll try my wish to gain
Of Oberon the fairy.
Sweet airy being, wanton sprite,
That lurk'st in woods unseen, And oft by Cynthia's silver light
Tripp’st gaily o'er the green;
Oh! deign once more t'exert thy power ;
Haply some herb or tree,
Conceals a balm for me.
I ask no kind return of love,
No tempting charm to please:
That sighs for peace and ease.
Nor.peace nor ease the heart can know,
Which, like the needle true,
But, turning, trembles too.
Par, as distress the soul can wound,
'Tis pain in each degree: 'Tis bliss but to a certain bound;
Beyond, is agony.
Take then this treacherous sense of mine,
Which dooms me still to smart; Which pleasure can to pain refine,
To pains new pangs impart.
Oh! haste to shed the sacred balm!
My shatter'd nerves new string; And for my guest, serenely calm,
The nymph Indifference bring.
At her approach, see Hope, see Fear,
See Expectation fly;
That blasts the promis’d joy.
The tear which pity taught to flow,
The eye shall then disown; 'The heart that melts for others' woe
Shall then scarce feel its own.