That nothing fhould my foul infpire
But frienfhip warm, and love entire.}
Dull to the fenfe of new delight,

On thee the drooping Mufe attends;
As fome fond lover, robb'd of fight,
On thy expreffive power depends;
Nor would exchange thy glowing lines,
To live the lord of all that fhines.
But let me chafe thofe vows away

Which at ambition's fhrine I made; Nor ever let thy skill difplay

Thofe anxious moments ill repaid: Oh from my breast that feafon rafe, And bring my childhood in its place. Bring me the bells, the rattle bring,

And bring the hobby I beftrode; When, pleas'd in many a fportive ring, Around the room I jovial rode: Ev'n let me bid my lyre adieu,

And bring the whistle that I blew.* Then will I mufe, and penfive fay,

Why did not these enjoyments laft; How iweetly wafted I the day,

While innocence allow'd to waste!
Ambition's toils alike are vain,
But ah! for pleasure yield us pain.

ODE to MEMORY. 1748.

Memory! celestial maid! Who glean it the flowerets cropt by time; And, fuffering not a leaf to fade,

Preferv'f the bloffoms of our prime; Bring, bring thofe moments to my mind When life was new, and Lesbia kind.

And bring that garland to my fight,

With which my favour'd crook the bound;
And bring that wreath of rofes bright

Which then my fettive temples crown'd;
And to my raptur'd ear convey
The gentle things he deign'd to say.
And sketch with care the Mufe's bower,
Where Ifis rolls her filver tide;
Nor yet omit one reed or flower

Thar fhines on Cherwell's verdant fide;
If fo thou may'ft thofe hours prolong,
When polish'd Lycon join d my fong.
The fong it 'vails not to recite-

But fure, to foothe our youthful dreams,
Those banks and ftreams appear'd more bright
Than other banks, than other streams:
Or, by the foftening pencil fhewn,
Affume thy beauties not their own?
And paint that fweetly vacant fcene,
When, all beneath the poplar bough,
My fpirits light, my foul ferene,

I breath'd in verfe one cordial vow:

The PRINCESS ELIZABETH,

A BALLAD alluding to a flory recorded of her, when he was prifoner at Woodstock, 1554

WILL

LL you hear how once repining.
Great Eliza captive lay?

Each ambitious thought refigning,
Foe to riches, pomp, and fway.
While the nymphs, and fwains delighted
Tript around in all their pride;
Envying joys by others flighted,

Thus the royal maiden cry'd.

"Bred ou plains, or born in vallies,

Who would bid thofe fcenes adieu? Stranger to the arts of malice,

Who would ever courts purfue? Malice never taught to treasure,

Cenfure never taught to bsar: Love is all the fhepherd's pleafure; Love is all the damfel's care. How can they of humble station Vainly blame the powers above? Or accufe the difpentation

Which allows them all to love? Love like air is widely given, Power nor chance can thefe refrain; frueft, nobloft gifts of heaven! Only pureft on the plain!

Pecre

And when this vow shall faithless prove,
Or I those charms forego;
The ftream that faw our tender love,
That ftream fhall ceafe to flow.

ODE to INDOLENCE. 1750.

H! why for ever on the wing

A Perfils my wearied foul to roam?

Why, ever cheated, ftrives to bring

Or pleasure or contentment home? Thus the poor bird, that draws his name From paradife's honour'd groves, Careless fatigues his little frame;

Nor finds the refting place he loves. Lo! on the rural moffy bed

My limbs with careless eafe reclin'd; Ah, gentle floth!-indulgent spread

The fame foft bandage o'er my mind For why should lingering thought invade, Yet every worldly profpect cloy? Lend me, foft floth, thy friendly aid,

And give me peace, debarr'd of joy. Lov ft thon yon calm and filent flood,

That never ebbs, that never flows; Protected by the circling wood From each tempeftuous wind that blows? An altar on its bank fhall rife,

Where oft thy votary fhall be found;
What time pale autumn lulls the skies,
And fickening verdure fades around.
Ye bufy race, ye factious train,

That haunt ambition's guilty fhrine;
No more perplex the world in vain,
But offer here your vows with mine.
And thou, puiffant queen! be kind:
If e'er I har'd thy balmy power;
If e'er I fway'd my active mind

To weave for thee the rural bower;
Diffolve in fleep each anxious care;
Each unavailing figh remove;
And only let me wake to hare,

The fweets of friendship and of love..

Age not forbids thy stay;

Thou yet might'it act the friendly part;
Thou yet might'ft raise this languid heart;
Why fpeed fo fwife away?

Thou fcorn'ft the city-air;

I breathe fresh gales o'er furrow'd ground,
Yet haft not thou my wishes crown'd,
O falfe! O partial fair!

I plunge into the wave';
And though with purcft hand I raise
A rural altar to thy p aife,

Thou wilt not deign to fave.
Amid my well-known grove,
Where mineral fountains vainly bear
The boafted name, and titles fair,
Why fcorns thy foot to rove?
Thou hear'ft the sportsman's claim;
Enabling him, with idle noise,
To drown the Mufe's melting voice,
And fright the timorous game.
Is thought thy foe? adieu,
Ye midnight lamps! ye curious tomes!
Mine eye o'er hills and val eys roamis,
And deals no more with you.

Is it the clime you flee?
Yet, 'midt his unremitting fuows,
The poor Laponian's bofom glows;
And fhares bright rays from thee.
There was, there was a time
When, though I fcorn'd thy guardian care,
Nor made a vow, nor faid a prayer,
I did not rue the crime.

Who then more bleft than I? When the glad school-boy's task was done, And forth, with jocund fprite, I run

To freedom, and to joy?

How jovial then the day!
What fince have all my labours found,
Thus climbing life, to gaze around,
That can thy lofs repay?

Wert thou, alas! but kind,
Methinks no frown that fortune wears,
Nor leffen'd hopes, nor growing cares,
Could fink my chearful mind.

Whate'er my fars include;
What other breafts convert to pain,
My towering mind fhall foon difdain,
Should fcorn-Ingratitude:

Repair this mouldering cell,
And bleft with objects found at home,
And envying none theirfa rer dome,
How pleas'd my foul fhould dwell;

Temperance fhould guard the doors; From room to room should memory fray, And ranging all in neat array,

Enjoy her pleaûng stores

There let them reft unknown,
The types of many a pleasing fcene:
But to preferve them bright or clean,
Is thine, fair Queen! alone.

Y

A

Fitting up her Library. 1738.

H! what is science, what is art,

Or what the pleasure these impart; Ye trophies, which the learn'd purfue Through endlefs fruitlefs toils adieu! What can the tedious tomes beftow, To foothe the miseries they fhow? What, like the blifs for him decreed, Who tends his flock, and tunes his reed! Say, wretched fancy! thus refin'd From all that glads the fimpleft hind, How rare that object which fupplies A charm for too difcerning eyes! The polish'd bard, of genius vain, Endures a deeper fenfs of pain: As each invading blast devours The richest fruits, the fairest flowers.. Sages, with irksome wafte of time, The fteep afcent of knowledge climb; Then from the towering heights they scale, Behold contentment range-the vale. Yet why, Afteria, tell us why We fcorn the crowd, when you are nigh; Why then does reafon feem fo fair, Why learning, then, deferve our care? Who can unpleas'd your fhelves behold, While you fo fair a proof unfold What force the brightest genius draws From polifh'd wifdom's written laws?. Where are our humbler tenets flown?, What flrange perfection bids us own That blifs with toilfome fcience dwells, And happiest he, who moft excells?

Upon a VISIT to the fame, in WINTER, 1748.

N fair Afteria's blissful plains,

ΟΝ

Where ever blooming fancy reigns,
How pleas'd we pass the winter's day;
And charm the dull ey'd fpleen away!
No linnet, from the leaflefs bough,
Pours forth her note melodious now;
But all admire Afteria's tongue,
Nor with the linnet's vernal fong.

No flower's emit their tranfient rays:
Yet fure Afteria's wit difplays
More various tints, more glowing lines,
And with perennial beauty fhines.
Though rifled groves and fetter'd freams
But ill befriend a poet's dreams:
Afteria's prefence wakes the lyre;
And well fupplies poetic fire.
Lady Luborough.

No chearful azure decks the fky;
Yet till we blefs the louring day;
Afteria fmiles--and all is gay.
Hence let the muse no more prefume,
To blame the winter's dreary gloom;
Accuse his loitering hours no more;
But ah! their envious hafte deplore!
For foon, from wit and friendship's reign,
The focial hearth, the sprightly vein,
I go-to meet the coming year,
On favage plains, and deferts drear!
I go-to feed on pleasures flown,
Nor find the fpring my lofs atone!
But 'mid the flowery fweets of May
With pride recal this winter's day.

An Irregular ODE after SICKNESS,

Τ

1749:

- Melius, cum venerit ipfa, canemus.

00 long a ftranger to repofe,

At length from pan's abhorred couch I rofe
And wander'd forth alone;

To court once more the balmy breeze,
And catch the verdure of the trees,

Ere yet their charms were flown.
'Twas from a bank with panfies gay
I haild once more the chearful day,
The fun's forgotten beams:
O fun! how pleafing were thy rays.
Reflected from the polifh'd face

Of yon refulgent streams!
Rais'd by the scene, my feeble tongue
Effay'd again the fweets of fong:
And thus, in feeble ftrains and flow,
The loitering numbers 'gan to flow.
"Come, gentle air! my languid limbs restore,
And bid me welcome from the Stygian fhore:
For fure I heard the tender fighs,

I feem'd to join the plaintive cries Of hapless youths, who through the myrtle grove Bewail for ever their unfinish'd love:

To that unjoyous clime,

Torn from the fight of thefe etherial skies;
Debarr'd the luftre of their Delia's eyes;

And banish'd in their prime.

Come, gentle air! and, while the thickets bloom,
Convey the jafmine's breath divine;
Convey the woodbine's rich perfume,
Nor fpare the fweet-leaft eglantine.
And may'ft thou fhun the rugged ftorm
Till health her wonted charms explain,
With rural pleasure in her train,
To greet me in her faireft form.

While from this lofty mount I view
The fons of wealth, the vulgar crew,
Anxious for futile gains beneath me stray,
And feck with erring step contentment's obviou

way.

Comes

Come, gentle air! and thou, celeftial Mufe, Thy genial flame infufe ;

Enough to lend a pensive hosom aid,

And gild retirement's gloomy fhade;
Enough to rear fuch ruftic lays

As foes may flight, but partial friends will praife."
The gentle air allow'd my claim;

And, more to chear my drooping frame,
She mix'd the balm of opening flowers;
Such as the bee, with chemic powers,
From Hybla's fragrant hills in ales,
Or fcents sabea's blooming vales.

But ah! the nymphs that heal the pensive mind
By prefcripts more refin'd,

Neglect the r votary's anxious moan

Oh, how should they relieve?-The Mufes all were flown.

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

I leave behind my native mead.

1

To range where z-al and friendship lead, To vifit Luxborough's honour'd bower. Ah foolish man! to feek the tuneful maids On other plains, or near lefs verdant shades; Scarce have my foot-fteps prefs'd the favour'd

ground,

When founds etherial strike my ear; At once celeftial forms appear;

My fugitives are found!

The Mufes here attune their lyres,
Ah partial! with unwonged fires;
Here, hand in hand, with careless mien,
The Sportive Craces trip the green.
But whilft I wander'd o'er a fcene so fair,
Too well at one furvey I trace,
How every Mufe, and every Grace,

Had long employ'd their care.
Lurks not a stone enrich'd with lively stain,
Blooms not a flower amid the vernal store,
Falls not a plume on India's diftant plain,

Glows not a fhell on Adria's rocky fhore,
But, torn methought from native lands and feas,
From their arrangement gain fresh power to
please.

And fome had bent the wildering maze,

Bedeck'd with every shrub that blows;
And fome entwin'd the willing sprays,

To fhield th' illuftrious dame's repose:
Others had grac'd the sprightly dome,
And taught the portrait where to glow ;
Others arrang'd the curious tome;
Or, mid the decorated space,
Affign'd the laurel'd buft a place,
And given to learning all the pomp of show.
And now from every task withdrawn,
They met and frifk'd it o'er the lawn.

Ah! woe is me, faid I;
And's hilly circuit heard my cry,
Have I for this, with labour ftrove,
And lavish'd all my little ftare

Ah! lovely treacherous maids! To quit unfeen my votive shades, When pale difeafe, and torturing pain, Had torn me from the breezy plain, And to a reftlefs 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 the marks the fage command,
More lovely scenes her fkill fhall raise,
Her lyre refoun with nobler lays

Than ever you infpir'd.
Thus I may rage and grief difplay;
But vainly blame, and vainly mourn,
Nor will a Grace or Muse return
Till Luxborough lead the way.

To a LADY, with fome coloured Patterns of Flowers, Oct. 7, 1736.

T

MADAM,

HOUGH rude the draughts, though artless
feem the lines,

From one unfkill'd in verfe, or in defigns;
Oft has good ature been the fool's defence,
And honeft meaning gilded want of fenfe.

Fear not, though flowers and beauty grace my
lay,

To praile one fair, another shall decay.
No lily, bright rith painted foliage, here,
Shall only languish, when Selinda's near:
A Fate revers'd no fmiling rofe fhall know,
Nor with reflected luftre doubly glow.
Praifes which languifh when apply'd to you,
Where flattering fchen.es feem obviously true.

Yet fure your fex is near to flowers ally'd,
Alike in foftnefs, and alike in pride:
Foes to re reat, and ever fond to fhine,
Both rush to danger, and the shades decline;
Expos'd, the fhort-liv'd pageants of a day,
To painted flies or glittering fops a prey:
Chang'd with each wind, nor one short day the
fame,

Each clouded fky affects their tender frame,
In glaring Chloe's man-like tafte and mien,
Are the grofs fplendors of the Tulip seen:
Diftant they strike, inelegantly gay,
To the near view no pleafing charms display.
To form the nymph, a vulgar wit must join,
As coarfer foils will moft the flower refine.
Ophelia's beauties let the Jaimine paint,
foo faintly loft, too nicely elegant.

Y 2

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