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Or fleeps one colder in his clofe clay-bed
Than t'other in the wide vault's dreary womb?

Hither let Lux'ry lead her loofe-rob'd train,
Here flutter Pride on purple-painted wings,
And from the moral profpect learn-how VAIN



O'ER moorlands and mountains, rude, barren, and

As wilder'd and weary'd I roam,

A gentle young shepherdefs fees my despair,


And leads me, o'er lawns, to her home. Yellow fheaves from rich Ceres her cottage had crown'd, Green rushes were ftrew'd on her floor,

Her cafement fweet woodbines crept wantonly round, And deck'd the fod feats at her door.

We fat ourselves down to a cooling repaft,

Fresh fruits and fhe cull'd me the best;
While thrown from my guard by fome glances she caft,
Love flyly stole into my breast.

I told my foft wishes; the fweetly reply'd,
(Ye Virgins! her voice was divine!)
66 I've rich ones rejected, and great ones deny'd,
"But take me, fond Shepherd-I'm thine.”

Her air was fo modeft, her aspect so meek,
So fimple, yet fweet, were her charms!

I kifs'd the ripe roses that glow'd on her cheek,
And lock'd the dear maid in my arms.

Now jocund together we tend a few sheep,
And if by yon' prattler, the fre: mɔ
Reclin'd on her bofom I fink


Her image ftill foftens my dream.

Together we range o'er the flow-rifing hills,
Delighted with paftoral views,

Or reft on the rock whence the ftreamlet diftils,
And point out new themes for my Mufe.
To pomp or proud titles the ne'er did afpire;
The damfel's of humble defcent:

The cottager Peace is well known for her fire,
And fhepherds have nam'd her CONTENT.





CHILDREN of Fancy, wither are ye fled?

Where have ye borne thofe hope-enliven'd hours, That once with myrtle garlands bound my head, That once beftrew'd my vernal path with flowers


yon fair vale, where blooms the beechen grove, Where winds the flow wave thro' the flowery plain, To thefe fond arms you led the tyrant Love,

With Fear, and Hope, and Folly in his train.

My lyre, that, left at carelefs diftance, hung
Light on fome pale branch of the ofier fhade,
To lays of amorous blandifhment you firung,

And o'er my fleep the lulling mufic play'd. "Reft, gentle youth! while on the quivering breeze Slides to thine ear this foftly breathing ftrain; "Sounds that move smoother than the steps of ease, "And pour oblivion in the ear of pain.

"In this fair vale eternal fpring shall smile,

"And Time unenvious crown each rofeate hour; Eternal joy fhall every care beguile,

"Breathe in each gale, and bloom in every flower. "This filver fream, that down its cryftal way, "Frequent has led my mufing fteps along, "Shall, fill the fame, in funny mazes play, "And with its murinurs melodife thy fong.

Unfading green fhall thefe fair groves adorn; "Thole living meads immortal flowers unfold; "In rofy fmiles fhall rife each blushing morn,

"And every evening clofe in clouds of gold. "The tender Loves that watch thy flumbering reft, "And round thee flowers and balmy myrtles ftrew, "Shall charm, thro' all approaching life, thy breaft, With joys for ever pure, for ever new.

The genial power that speeds the golden dart, "Each charm of tender paflion fhall infpire; With fond affection fill the mutual heart, "And feed the flame of ever-young Defire.

"Come, gentle Loves! your myrtle garlands bring; "The Imiling bower with clufter'd rofes fpread;

"Come, gentle Airs! with incenfe-dropping wing, "The breathing fweets of vernal odour shed.

"Hark, as the ftrains of fwelling mufic rife,
"How the notes vibrate on the fav'ring gale!
"Aufpicious glories beam along the skies,

"And powers unfeen the happy moments hail! "Extatic hours! fo every diftant day

"Like this ferene on downy wings fhall move; "Rife crown'd with joys that triumph o'er decay, "The faithful joys of Fancy and of Love."



were they vain, thofe foothing lays ye fung! Children of Fancy! yes, your fong was vain; On each foft air though rapt Attention hung And Silence liften'd on the fleeping plain. The ftrains yet vibrate on my ravish'd ear, And till to fimile the mimic beauties feem, Though now the vifionary fcenes appear Like the faint traces of a vanish'd dream. Mirror of life! the glories thus depart

Of all that Youth, and Love, and Fancy frame, When painful anguish speeds the piercing dart, Or Envy blafts the blooming flow'rs of Fame.

Nurfe of wild wishes, and of fond defires,

The prophetess of Fortune, falfe and vain, To fcenes where Peace in Ruin's arms expires Fallacious Hope deludes her hapless train.

Go, Syren, go; thy charms on others try;

My beaten bark at length has reach'd the shore:

Yet on the rock my dropping garments lie;
And let me perish, if I trust thee more.
Come, gentle Quiet! long-neglected maid!
O come, and lead me to thy moffy cell;
There unregarded in the peaceful shade,

With calm Repose and Silence let me dwell.
Come happier hours of sweet unanxious reft,
When all the struggling paffions shall subside;
When Peace fhall clafp me to her plumy breast,
And fmooth my filent minutes as they glide.
But chief, thou goddefs of the thoughtless eye,
Whom never cares or paffions difcompofe,

O bleit Infenfibility, be nigh,

And with thy foothing hand my weary eyelids close. Then fhall the cares of Love and Glory cease,

And all the fond anxieties of Fame; Alike regardlefs in the arms of Peace,

If thefe extol or thofe debafe a name.

In Lyttleton though all the mufes praise,

His generous praife fhall then delight no more, Nor the fweet magic of his tender lays

Shall touch the bofom which it charm'd before.

Nor then, though Malice with infidious guife
Of friendship ope the unfufpecting breast;

Nor then, though Envy broach her blackening lies,
Shall thefe deprive me of a moment's reft.

Oftate to be defir'd when hoftile rage

Prevails in human more than favage haunts; When man with man eternal war will wage,

And never yield that mercy which he wants.

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