'In vain! the lift'ning mufe attends in vain !

Restraints in hoftile bands her motions wait-Yet will I grieve, and fadden all my strain, When injur'd beauty mourns the mufe's fate.

TO DELIA, with fome flowers; complaining how much his benevolence fuffers on account of his humble fortune.

W

Hate'er could fculpture's curious art employ,

Whate'er the lavish hand of wealth can show'r,

Thefe 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 smile 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 small expence, their fondest pray'r!

And oh the joy! to fhun the conscious light,

To fpare the modeft blush; to give unseen! Like fhow'rs that fall behind the veil of night,

Yet deeply tinge the smiling vales with green.

But

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

To call loft worth from its oppreffive fhade;
To fix its equal fphere, and see it shine;
To hear it grateful own the gen'rous aid;
This, this is transport-but muft ne'er be mine.

Faint is my bounded blits; 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 lifelefs corfe may share ;
Some hireling hand a fading wreath bestow ;
The reft will breathe as sweet, will glow as fair,
As when their master smil'd to see 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 carclefs eyes my vulgar fate proclaim,
Let thy kind tear my utmoft worth o'rpay;
And, foftly fighing, vindicate my fame. -

O DELIA! chear'd by thy fuperior praise,
I blefs 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.

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

amour.

WH

WHY mourns my friend! why weeps his downcaft eye? That eye where mirth, where fancy us'd to shine? Thy chearful meads reprove that fwelling figh; Spring ne'er enamell'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

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 thefe vernal fweets, 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 finil'd,
And rafhly hallow'd all her queen inspir'd.

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 fpotless 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 fcience of love's mazy wiles,
I cloath'd each feature with affected scorn ;
I fpoke 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 difprove;

I bade my words the wonted softness wear,
And feiz'd the minute of returning love.

Το

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 sharpness of a pang like mine.

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

HENRY, fhe faid, by thy dear form fubdu'd,
See the fad reliques of a nymph undone !
I find, I find this rifing sob renew'd:

I figh in fhades, and ficken at the fun.

Amid the dreary gloom of night, I cry,

When will the morn's once pleafing scenes return? Yet what can morn's returning ray supply,

But foes that triumph, or but friends that mourn!

Alas! no more that joyous morn appears

That led the tranquil hours of fpotless fame; For I have fteep'd a father's couch in tears, And ting'd a mother's glowing cheek with shame.

The vocal birds that raise their matin strain,
The sportive lambs, increafe my penfive moan;
All seem to chafe me from the chearful plain,
And talk of truth and innocence alone.