With eager haste I fly.
Thrice welcome, friendly Solitude!
O let no busy foot intrude,

Nor list ning ear be nigh.

Soft, silent, melancholy maid!
With thee to yon sequester'd shade
My pensive steps I bend;
Still, at the mild approach of night,
When Cynthia lends her sober light,
Do thou my walk attend!

To thee alone my conscious heart
Its tender sorrow dares impart,

And ease my lab'ring breast;
To thee I trust the rising sigh,
And bid the tear that swells mine eye
No longer be supprest.

With thee among the haunted groves
The lovely sorc'ress fancy roves,
O let me find her here!

For she can time and space controul,
And swift transport my fleeting soul
To all it holds most dear!

Ah no!-ye vain delusions hence!
No more the hallow'd influence
Of solitude pervert!

Shall fancy cheat the precious hour,
Sacred to wisdom's awful pow'r
And calm reflection's part?

O wisdom! from the sea-beat shore
Where, list'ning to the solemn roar,
The lov'd Eliza strays,
Vouchsafe to visit my retreat,
And teach my erring, tremb'ling feet
Thy heav'n protected ways!

Oh guide me to the humble cell
Where resignation loves to dwell,
Contentment's bow'r in view.

Nor pining grief with absence drear,
Nor sick suspense, nor anxious fear,

Shall there my steps pursue.

Mrs. Elizabeth Carter, a lady well known to the literary world, author of

a beautiful Ode to Wisdom.

There

There let my soul to Him aspire

Whom none e'er sought with vain desire,
Nor lov'd in sad despair!
There, to his gracious will divine
My dearest, fondest hope resign,
And on my tenderest care!

Then peace shall heal this wounded breast,
That pants to see another blest,

From selfish passion pure;

Peace, which when human wishes rise
Intense, for aught beneath the skies,
Can never be secure.

ODE on the PLEASURE arising from VICISSITUDE, left unfinished by the late Mr. GRAY; with Additions to complete it, by Mr. MASON. From Mr. MASON'S Edition of Mr. GRAY's Works. The Additions are in Italicks.

New-born flocks, in rustic dance,
Frisking ply their feeble feet;
Forgetful of their wintry trance
The birds his presence greet:
But chief, the sky-lark warbles high
His trembling thrilling extacy;
And, lessening from the dazzled sight,
Melts into air and liquid light.

Rise, my soul! on wings of fire,
Rise the rapt'rous choir among;
Hark! 'tis nature strikes the lyre,
And leads the general song:
Warm let the lyric transport flow,
Warm, as the ray that bids it glow;
And animates the vernal grove
With health, with harmony, and love.

Yesterday

Yesterday the sullen year
Saw the snowy whirlwind fly;
Mute was the music of the air,
The herd stood drooping by:
Their raptures now that wildly flow,
No yesterday, nor morrow know;
'Tis man alone that joy descries
With forward, and reverted eyes.

Siniles on past misfortune's brow
Soft reflection's hand can trace;
And o'er the cheek of sorrow throw
A melancholy grace;

While hope prolongs our happier hour,
Or deepest shades, that dimly lower
And blacken round our weary way,
Gilds with a gleam of distant day.

Still, where rosy pleasure leads,
See a kindred grief pursue;
Behind the steps that misery treads
Approaching comfort view:

The hues of bliss more brightly glow,
Chastis'd by sabler tints of woe;
And blended form, with artful strife,
The strength and harmony of life.

See the wretch, that long has tost
On the thorny bed of pain,
At length repair his vigour lost,
And breathe, and walk again :
The meanest floweret of the vale,
The simplest note that swells the gale,
The common sun, the air, the skies,
To him are opening paradise.

Humble quiet builds her cell,

*

Near the source whence pleasure flows;
She eyes the clear crystalline well,
And tastes it as it goes.

While far below the madding croud
Rush headlong to the dangerous flood,
Where broad and turbulent it sweeps,
And perish in the boundless deeps.

Mark where indolence, and pride,
Sooth'd by flattery's tinkling sound,

* So Milton accents the word: On the crystalline sky, in sapphire thron'd.

P. L. Book vi. v. 772.

Go2

Go, softly rolling side by side,
Their dull, but daily round:
To these, if Hebe's self should bring
The purest cup from pleasure's spring,
Say, can they taste the flavour high
Of sober, simple, genuine joy?

Mark ambition's march sublime
Up to power's meridian height;
While pale-ey'd envy sees him climb,
And sickens at the sight.

Phantoms of danger, death, and dread,
Float hourly round ambition's head;
While Spleen, within his rival's breast,
Sits brooding on her scorpion nest.

Happier he, the peasant, far,
From the pangs of passion free,
That breathes the keen, yet wholesome air
Of rugged penury.

He, when his morning task is done,
Can slumber in the noontide sun;
And hie him home, at evening's close,
To sweet repast, and calm repose.

He, unconscious whence the bliss,
Feels, and owns in carols rude,
That all the circling joys are his,
Of dear vicissitude.

From toil he wins his spirits light,
From busy day the peaceful night;
Rich, from the very want of wealth,

In heav'n's blest treasures, peace and health.

An ODE for the REGATTA, or WATER-JUBILEE. Performed on Friday, the 23d of July, 1775, at RANELAGH.

BRW

RITANNIA! blest with soft repose,
(Whose fields in richest robes are drest,
Whose vallies spread their verdant vest)
Thus from her peaceful palace rose,
And to the Deities her pray'r addrest!
"O'er my fair isle (the glory of the main)
This day may love triumphant reign!"

The goddess never prays in vain;

At Jove's supreme propitious nod,
Forth from the chambers of the main,
Quick darts the coral-crowned god!

Glad

Glad Tritons at his presence sounding!
Notes from Albion's rocks rebounding!
His awful trident shakes the ground!
What solemn silence reigns around!
Nor surges lash the trembling shore,
Nor dare the winds tumultuous roar ;
But slowly slide the conscious billows-
Softly wave the listening willows!
Whilst Neptune with majestic smile
Accosts the goddess of our isle!.

"To crown this chosen, happy day,
My offspring shall my will obey;
The daughter of the genial main,
The queen of youth and rosy smiles!
(Queen of dimple-dwelling wiles)"
Come with all her Paphian train!
She comes! the conscious sea subsides!
Neptune curbs his hundred tides!
Smooth the silken surface lies,
Where Venus' flow'ry chariot flies!
Paphian maids around her move,
Keen ey'd hope, and joy, and love!
Close by her side, her darling son she brings,
With quiver full! he claps his wanton wings!
He takes his aim! behold each pointed dart!
With pleasing anguish pierce the destin❜d heart!

Love and music sprung from heav'n!
Sov'reigns of the human soul!
And by nature wisely giv'n

Ruder passions to controul.
Beauty's empire far extends,

O'er the ocean's wide domain !
From the world's extremest ends,
To Britannia's happy plain.
Behold! in every youthful breast
(Thames' banks have nurst the flame)
Venus, ever welcome-guest,

Courts the generous sons of fame!

(Full Chorus)

Happy island! happy king!

Where the free-born subjects live!

Where the circling seasons bring

All that love and glory give.

BALLAD

1