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Or sleeps one colder in his close clay-bed
Than t’other in the wide vault's dreary womb ?

Hither let Lux'ry lead her loose-rob’d train,
Here Autter Pride on purple-painted wings,
And from the moral prospect learn--how VAIN
The wish that signs for SUBLUNARY THINGS!



Over moorlands and mountains, rude, barren, and
As wilder'd and weary'd I roam,

(bare, A gentle young lhepherdess sees my despair,

And leads me, o'er lawns, to her home.
Yellow sheaves from rich Ceres her cottage had crown'd,

Green rushes were strew'd on her floor,
Her casement sweet woodbines crept wantonly round,

And deck'd the rod seats at her door.

We sat ourselves down to a cooling repaít,

Fresh fruits ! and she culld me the best ;
While thrown from my guard by some glances the cast,

Love slyly stole into my breast.
I told my soft wishes ; she sweetly reply'd,

(Ye Virgins ! her voice was divine!)
I've rich ones rejected, and great ones deny'd,

“ But take me, fond Shepherd I'm thine." Her air was so modest, her aspect so meek,

Su simple, yet sweet, were her charms !
I kiss'd the ripe roses that glow'd on her cheek,

And lock'd the dear maid in my arms.

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Now jocund together we tend a frv heep,

And if by yon' prattler, the fseim, Reclin’d on her bofom.I link is Icileep,

Her image still softens my dream.
Together we range o'er the now-rising hills,

Delighted with pastoral views,
Or rest on the rock whence the streamlet diftils,

And point out new themes for my Muse.
To pomp or proud titles she ne'er did aspire;

The damsel's of humble descent:
The cottager Peace is well known for her fire,

And shepherds have nam'd her CONTENT.





CHILDREN of Fancy, wither are ye fled?

Where have ye borne those hope.enliven'd hours, That once with myrtle garlands bound my head,

That once bestrew'd my vernal pach with flowers 3 In yon fair vale, where blooms the beechen grove,

V.'here winds the low wave thro’ the flowery plain, To these fond arms you led the tyrant Love,

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

My lyre, that, left at careless distance, hung

Light on some pale branch of the ofier shade, To lays of amorous blandishment you trung,

And o'er my seep the lulling music play'd. • Reft, gentle youth! while on the quivering breeze

“ Slides to thine ear this softly breathing Atrain ; « Sounds that move smoother than the steps of ease,

" And pour oblivion in the ear of pain. " In this fair vale eternal spring shall smile,

" And Time unenvious crown each roseate hour; “ Eternal joy shall every care beguile,

“ Breathe in each gale, and bloom in every flower. 66 This filver stream, that down its cryftal way,

“ Frequent has led my musing steps along, • Shall, fill the same, in furny mazes play,

" And with its murmurs melodise thy song. " Unfading green shall these fair groves adorn;

" Thoie living neads immortal flowers unfold; " In rony fmiles fall rise each blushing morn,

" And every evening close in clouds of gold. “ The tender Loves that watch thy slumbering rest,

" And round thee flowers and balmy myrtles strew, “ Shall charm, thro' all approaching life, thy breast,

“ With joys for ever pure, for ever new. “'The genial power that speeds the golden dart,

" Each charm of tender paflioa ihall inspire ; ci frith fond affection till the mutual heart,

66 sad feed the fiant of ever-young Defire. 56 Come, gentie Loves! your myrtle gulands bring;

"he imiling bower with cluster'd roses spread;

« Come, gentle Airs! with incense-dropping wing,

The breathing sweets of vernal odour shed. “ Hark, as the strains of swelling music rise,

“ How the notes vibrate on the fav’ring gale! “ Auspicious glories beam along the skies,

“ And powers unseen the happy moments hail! « Extatic hours! so every distant day

“ Like this serene on downy wings shall move; “ Rife crown'd with joys that triumph o'er decay,

“ The faithful joys of Fancy and of Love."


were they vain, those foothing lays ye sung! Children of Fancy! yes, your song was vain; On each soft air though rapt Attention hung

And Silence listen'd on the sleeping plain. The strains yet vibrate on my ravish'd ear,

And still to finile the mimic beauties seem, Though now the visionary scenes appear

Like the faint traces of a vanith'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 blasts the blooming flow'rs of Fame. Nurse of wild wilhes, and of fond desires,

The prophetess of Fortune, false and vain, To scenes 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 mossy cell ; There unregarded in the peaceful shade,

With calm Repose and Silence let me dwell. Come happier hours of sweet unanxious rest,

When all the struggling passions shall fubfide; When Peace shall clasp me to her plumy breast,

And I'mooth my silent minutes as they glide. But chief, thou goddess of the thoughtless eye,

Whom never cares or, paffions discompose, O bleit losensibility, be nigh,

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

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

If there extol or those de base a name. In Lyttleton though all the muses praise,

His generous praise sall then delight no more, Nor the sweet magic of his tender lays

Shall touch the bofom which it charm'd before, Nor then, though Malice with insidious guise

Of friendthip ope the unsuspecting breast; Nor then, though Envy broach her blackening lies,

Shall these di prive me of a moment's rest. O ftate to be defir'd! when hostile rage

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

And never yield that mercy which he wants.

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