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Where Flora decks the dewy dale with flowers,
And beeches twine their branches into bowers,
The warbling birds, the gales that gently blow,
May tune thy reed, and teach the verse to flow."
Thus spoke the nymph with soft alluring grace,
And led me round the flow'r-embroider'd place;
Through every variegated rural scene
Of shady forest, and of meadow green,
Of winding valleys, and of rising hills,
Of mossy fountains and translucent rills;
Where downs, or level lawns expanded wide,
The groves, the garden, and the wood divide;
Where walks by long-extended walks are crost,
And alleys in meandering alleys lost;
The dubious-traces intricately run,
And end erroneous where they first begun:
Where Saxon fanes, that in fair order rise,
With elegant simplicity surprise.
Where'er the nymph directs my ravish'd sight,
New senes appear that give a new delight:
Here spiry firs extend their lengthen'd ranks,
There violets blossom on the sunny banks;
Here born-beam hedges regularly grow,
There hawthorns whitea, and wild roses blow.
Luxuriant Flora paints the purple plain,
And in the gardens waves the golden grain;
Curl'd round tall tufted trees the woodbine

weaves

In fond embrace its tendrils with the leaves:
Sweet-scented shrubs a rich perfume exhale,
And health ambrosial floats on every gale.
From rushy-fringed founts rise sparkling rills
That glide in mazy windings down the hills:
Or under pendent shades of oziers flow,
Dispensing moisture to the plants below:
Now, hid beneath the flowery turf, they pass
Ingulph'd, now sport along the velvet grass,
With many an errour slowly-lingering stray,
And murmuring in their course reluctant roll
away;

Thence into lucid lakes profusely fall
Foaming, or form the beautiful canal,
So smooth, so level, that it well might pass
For Cytherea's face-reflecting glass,

(Save when mild zephyrs o'er the surface stray,
Corl the light waves, and on his bosom play)
Yet to the bottom so distinctly clear,
The eye might number every pebble there;
And every fish that quickly-glancing glides,
Sports in the stream, and shows his silver sides.

If through the glades I turn my raptur'd eyes,
What various views, what lovely landscapes rise?
Here a once-hospitable mansion stands
'Midst fruitful plains, and cultivated lands;
There russet heaths, with fields of corn between,
And peaceful cots, and hamlets intervene :
These far-stretch'd views direct me to admire
A tower dismantled, or a lofty spire,
Or farm imbosom'd in some aged wood,
Or lowing herds that crop the flowery food;
Through these, irriguous vales, and lawns appear,
And fleecy flocks, and nimble-footed deer:
Sun-glittering villas, and bright streams are seen,
Gay meads, rough rocks, hoar hills, and forests
green:

As when Belinda works, with art divine,
In the rich screen some curious, gay design;
Quick as the fair the nimble needle plies,
Cots, churches, towers, or villages arise;

A varied group of flocks, and herds, and swains. Groves, fountains, fields, and daisy-painted

plains;

At Bramham thus with ravish'd eyes we see
How order strives with sweet variety:
Nature, kind goddess, joins the aid of art
To plan, to form, and finish every part.

But now beneath the beechen shade reolin'd,
Whose tall top trembling dances in the wind,
Fast by the falling of a hoarse cascade,
What glowing transports all my breast invade!
Down channel'd stone collected currents flow,
And steal obliquely through the vale below;
The feather'd songsters on the trees above
Attune their voices to the notes of love,
Notes so melodiously distinct and clear,
They charm my soul, and make it Heav'n to
hear.

moor,

O! what descriptive eloquence can tell
The woods, and winding walks of Boscobell "?
The various vistas, and the grassy glades,
The bowery coverts in sequester'd shades?
Or where the wan lering eye with pleasure sees.
A spacious amphitheatre of trees?
Or where the differing avenues unite,
Conducting to more pompous scenes the sight?
Lo! what high mounds inmense divide the
[shore!
Stretch'd from the southern to the northern
These are but relics of the Roman way,
Where the firm legions march'd in dread array,
Where rode the hero in his iron car,
And big with vengeance.roll'd the mighty war:
Here oft the curious coins and urns explore,
Which future Meads and Pembrokes shall adore;
To me more pleasing far yon tranquil dell,
Where Labour, Health, and sweet Contentment
dweil;

More pleasing far beside yon aged oaks,
Grotesque and wild,the cottage chimney smokes.
Fair to the view old Ebor's temple stands,
The work of ages, rais'd by holy hands;
How firm the venerable pile appears!
Reverend with age, but not impair'd by years.
O! could I build the Heav'n-directed rhyme,
Strong as thy fabric, as thy tow'rs sublime,
Then would the Muse on bolder pinions rise,
And make thy turrets emulate the skies.

Such are the scenes where woodland nymphs

resort,

And such the gardens where the Graces sport:
Would fate this verse to future times prolong,
These scenes should bloom for ever in my song.
Not Tempe's plains so beautiful appear,
Nor flow Castalia's sacred springs so clear;
The Muses, had they known this lov'd retreat,
Had lett Parnassus for a pobler seat.

Well may these groves in elegance excel, When Lane completes what Bingley plann'd so well;

Bids crystal currents sweetly-murmuring flow, Fair temples rise, and future navies grow. Here Dn might an idle hour employ, And those diversions, which he loves, enjoy;

"Boscobell. A beautiful wood, disposed in an elegant taste, and separated from the gardens by the park.

With wary spaniels furrow'd fields beset,
And close the partridge in the silken net :
Or search the woods, and with unerring aim
With leaden wounds transfix the flying game:
Or with stanch hounds the wily fox pursue,
And trace his footsteps o'er the tainted dew.
With what delight would friendly N-y change
Don's fertile valleys for this ampler range?
And with the music of th' enlivening horn
Cheer the fleet pack, and wake the lingering

morn.

But lo! faint Phœbus darts a languid ray,
And gold-edg'd clouds foretel the close of day;
The nymph observant took her airy flight,
And, like a vision, vanish'd from my sight.
13 Don. The river that runs by Doncaster.

A DESCRIPTION OF

CALYPSO AND HER GROTTO.

FROM TELEMACHUS, BOOK I.

THE queen he follow'd as she mov'd along,
Surrounded by her nymphs, a beauteous throng;
But far the fairest, and supremely tall,

She walk'd majestic, and outshone them all :
Thus 'midst a grove the princely oak appears,
And high in air his branching honours rears.
Her radiant beauty charm'd his youthful mind,
Her purple robe that floated in the wind,
And locks bound graceful with a clasp behind:
But her bright eyes, instilling fond desire,
Beam'd sweetness temper'd with celestial fire.
Sage Mentor follow'd, as in thought profound,
And silent fix'd his eyes upon the ground.
And now, conducted by the royal dame,
Soon to the entrance of her grott' they came,

'Perhaps the reader will not be displeased to see Homer's description of this famous grotto, as it is translated by Mr. Pope from the fifth book of the Odyssey.

Large was the grott, in which the nymph he found,

(The fair-hair'd nymph with every beauty crown'd) She sat and sung; the rocks resound her lays: The cave was brighten'd with a rising blaze: Cedar and frankincense, an odorous pile, Flam'd on the hearth, and wide perfum'd the isle; While she with work and song the time divides, And through the loom the golden shuttle guides. Without the grott, a various sylvan scene Appear'd around, and groves of living grecn; Poplars and alders ever quivering play'd, And nodding cypress fʊrm'd a fragrant shade; On whose high branches, waving with the storm, The birds of broadest wing their mansion form; The chough, the sea-mew, the loquacious crow, And scream aloft, and skim the deeps below. Depending vines the shelving cavern screen, With purple clusters blushing through the green. Four limpid fountains from the clefts distil, And every fountain pours a several rill, In mazy windings wandering down the hill: Where bloomy meads with vivid greens were crown'd,

And glowing violets threw odours round.

Amaz'd to find within this lonely cell
Nature with all her rural graces dwell.
There no high-polish'd marble they behold,
No storied columns, and no sculptur'd gold;
No speaking busts, no silver richly wrought,
No breathing pictures seem'd inform'd with
thought.

The grott, divided into various cells,
Was deck'd with spar, and variegated shells;
The place of tap'stry a young vine supply'd,
And spread her pliant arms on ev'ry side:
Cool zephyrs, though the Sun intensely glow'd,
Breath'd through the place sweet freshness as
they flow'd.

O'er amaranthine beds fair fountains stray'd,
And, softly murmuring, in the meadows play'd,
Or in broad basons pour'd the crystal wave,
Where oft the goddess wont her limbs to lave.
Fast by the grott sweet flowers of every hue,
Purpling the lawn, in gay confusion grew.
Here wav'd a wood, all glorious to behold;
Of trees that bloom with vegetable gold;
Whose branches, in eternal blossom, vield
Fragrance delicious as the flowery field,
This wood, impervious to the solar ray,
Crown'd the fair spot, and guarded it from day.
Here birds melodious pour'd the sprightly song;
There torrents thunder'd the rough rocks among,
Down dash'd precipitately from the hills,
Then o'er the level lawn diffus'd their curling
rills.

Calypso's grotto crown'd the breezy steep,
From whence appear'd the party-colour'd deep ;
Now smooth and even as a mirror seen,
Now vainly wreaking on the rocks its spleen,
Indignant, foaming with tremendous roar,
And in huge mountains rolling to the shore.
More pleasing was the prospect to the plain;
A river, winding through the rich champaign,
Form'd various isles with lines sweet-flowering

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away.

The distant mountains their hoar heads on high
Upheav'd, and lost their summits in the sky:
Their airy forms fantastic pleas'd the sight,
And fill'd the mind with wonder and delight.
The neighb'ring hills were spread by nature's
boon

With vines that hung in many a fair festoon;
Whose swelling grapes in richest purple dy'd,
The leaves attempted, but in vain, to hide :
So lov'd the generous vine to flourish here,
It bent beneath the plenty of the year.
Here purple figs with luscious juice overflow'd,
With deepen'd red the full pomegranate glow'd ;
The peaceful olive spread her branches round,
And every tree, with verdant honours crown'd,
Whose fruit the taste, whose flower the eye
might cheer,

And seem'd to make a new Elysium here.
Cambridge, 1758.

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Ye sons of harmony, prepare
Your hymns to greet this happy pair:
Let the sweet notes, distinctly clear,
In soft divisions melt upon the ear,
Such as may all the tender passions move,
Sooth the rapt soul, and be the food of love.
RECITATIVE.

Hark! the mighty queen of sound
Wakes each instrument around,

The merry pipe, the mellow-breathing lute,
The warbling lyre, the love-lamenting lute:
Now the light fantastic measure
Ravishes our ears with pleasure;
Now the trumpets loud and shrill,
From yon river-circled hill,

With manly notes our hearts inspire,
And emulate the golden lyre;

While the majestic, deep-mouth'd organs blow
In lengthen'd strains magnificently slow,
Divinely sweet, and delicately strong;

Till gently dying by degrees,

Like the last murmurs of the breeze,
Expires the soft-attenuated song :
And at the close of each mellifluous lay,
This verse is sung in honour of the day.
CHORUS.

Happy they as gods above

Whom Hymen binds in wreaths of love!
Love's pure flame itself endears,

And brightens with the length of years:
Love contents the humble state,

And show'rs down blessings on the great,
Sooths desires that wildly roll,
And calms the tempests of the soul.

RECITATIVE.

But, lo! sweet Emily, the fair, And Eugenio, happy pair! With placid look and graceful mien, Appear advancing o'er the green: Mark well the youth's love-darting eye, Soft-beaming with expressive joy, To view the object of his wishes near, Mild as the gentlest season of the year, Blooming as health, and fresh as early day, Fair, sweet, and bright as all the flowers of May. 1

And as, intent upon her charms,
Eugenio woos the damsel to his arms,
Her cheeks vermilion'd with a lovely blush,
Glow like twin roses on the verdant bush
While thus, methinks, I hear him say,
"Come, my fair one, come away;
Let us fleeting time improve

In the chaste joys of wedded love: I see propitious Hymen stand, His torch bright-blazing in his hand, To light us to the genial bed By the decent Graces spread, Where the rosy-finger'd Hours Scatter never-fading flowers. Love admits not of delay, Haste, my fair one, haste away." And you, Heav'n-favour'd pair, Who now the purest pleasures share, In happy union may you long enjoy Those heart-felt blandishments that never cloy; And may kind Heav'n the full abundance pour Of nuptial blessings in a fruitful shower; Crown all our wishes with a beauteous race, That may your bright accomplishments inherit,

The mother's mildness, loveliness, and grace, The father's honest heart, and sense, and ge

nerous spirit.

Like two pure springs whose gentle rills unite, Long may your stream of life serenely glide,

Through verdant vales, and meadows of delight, Where flow'rs unnumber'd, deck'd in beauty's pride, [side.

Blow on the blissful banks, and bloom on either
May no rude tempest discompose
Your course of quiet as it flows,
No clouded care, no chilling fear,

Nor anxious murmur hover there;
But mildest zephyrs on the surface play,
And waft each light disquietude away;
Till after all the winding journey past,
You mingle with eternity at last.

That tranquil sea, where sorrows are no more,
No storm-vext billows lash the peaceful shore :
There in Heav'n's bliss embosom'd, may yʊu

prove

The height of endless happiness and love.

THE DEATH OF THE LARK.

1738.

THE golden Sun, emerging from the main,
Beams a blue lustre on the dewy plain;
Elate with joy all creatures hail his rise,
That haunt the forest, or that skim the skies,
Gay-blooming flow'rs their various charms

renew,

A breathing fragrance, or a lovely hue:
Sweet pipes the shepherd, the fair morn to greet,
To his stout team the ploughman whistles sweet.
All nature smiles around. On airy wing
The lark, harmonious herald of the spring,
Rises aloft to breath his mattins loud
On the bright bosom of some fleecy cloud.
Ah! little conscious that he dies to day,
He sports his hour in innocence away,
And from the treble of his tuneful throat
Pours the sof; strain, or trills the sprightly note;

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Or calls his mate, and as he sweetly sings,
Soars in the sun-bram, wavering on his wings.
The ruthless fowler, with unerring aun,
Points the dire tube-forth streams the sudden
flame:

Swift in hoarse thunder flies the leaden wound,
The rigid rocks return the murdering souud;
The strains unfinish'd with the warbler die,
Float into air, and vanish in the sky.

Thus oft, fond man, rejoicing in his might, Sports in the sunshine of serene delight;

Fate comes unseen, and snaps the thin spun thread,

He dies, and sleeps forgotten with the dead.

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ALL ye gentle powers above, Venus, and thou god of love; All ye gentle souls below, That can melt at others woe; Lesbia's loss with tears deplore, Lesbia's sparrow is no more; Late she wont her bird to prize Dearer than her own bright eyes. Sweet it was and lovely too, And its mistress well it knew. Nectar from her lips it sipt, Here it hopt, and there it skipt: Oft it wanton'd in the air, Chirping only to the fair: Oft it lull'd its head to rest On the pillow of her breast. Now, alas! it chirps no more: All its blandishments are o'er : Death has summon'd it to go Pensive to the shades below; Dismal regions! from whose bourn No pale travellers return. Death! relentless to destroy All that's form'd for love or joy! Joy is vanish'd, love is fled, For my Lesbia's sparrow's dead. Lo, the beauteous nymph appears Languishingly drown'd in tears!

ON THE

DEATH OF A YOUNG GENTLEMAN. September, 1739.

Man cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down.
JOB, XIV. 2.

SHORT and precarious is the life of man;
The line seems fathomless, but proves a span;
A youth of follies, an old-age of sorrow;
Like flowers to day we bloom, we die to morrow.
Say then, what specious reasons can we give,
And why this longing, fond desire to live?
Blind as we are to what the Lord ordains,
We stretch our troubles, and prolong our pains.
But you, blest genius, dear departed shade,
Now wear a chaplet that shall never fade;

Now sit exalted in those realms of rest
Where virtue reigns, and innocence is blest,
Relentless death's inevitable doom
Untimely wrapt you in the silent tomb,
Ere the first tender down o'erspread your chin,
A stranger yet to sorrow, and to sin.

As some sweet rose-bud, that has just begun
To ope its damask beauties in the sun,
Cropt by a virgin's hand, remains confest
A sweeter rose-bud in her balmy breast:
Thus the fair youth, when Heav'n requir'd his
breath,

Sunk, sweetly smiling, in the arms of death;
For endless joys exchanging endless strife,
And bloom'd renew'd in everlasting life.

AN

EPISTLE

TO A FRIEND IN YORKSHIRE
HAPPY the Briton, whom indulgent fate
Has fix'd securely in the middle state,
The golden mean, where joys for ever flow,
Nor riches raise too high, nor wants depress too
low;

Stranger to faction, in his calm retreat,
Far from the noise of cities, and the great,
His days, like streams that feed the vivid grass,
And give fair flowers to flourish as they pass,
Waving their way, in sacred silence flow,
And scarcely breath a murinur as they go.
No hopes, nor fears his steady mind can vex,
No schemes of state, or politics perplex:
Whate'er propitious Providence has sent
He holds sufficient, and hunself content.
Though no proud columns grace his marble hall,
Nor Claude nor Guido animate the wall;
Blest who with sweet security can find,
In health of body, and in peace of mind,
His casy moments pass without offence
In the still joys of rural innocence.
Such was the life our ancestors admir'd,
And thus illustrious from the world retir'd:
'Thus to the woodland shades my friend repairs
With the lov'd partner of his joys and cares,
Whose social temper can his griefs allay,
And smile each light anxiety away:
In cheerful converse sweetly form'd to please,
With wit goodnatur'd, and polite with ease:
Blest with plain prudence, ignorant of art,
Her native goodness wins upon your heart.
Not fond of state, nor eager of control,
Her face reflects the beauties of her soul,
Such charms still bloom when youth shall fade

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May silent pleasures every hour delude In sweet oblivion of solicitude.

Cambridge, 1741.

ON A LADY'S SINGING, AND PLAYING UPON THE HARPSICHORD.

"SAY, Zephyr, what music enchants the gay plains?

As soft and as sweet as the nightingale's strains; My heart it goes pitapatee with a bound, And gently transported beats time to the sound. "O say, is it Sappho that touches the strings? And some song of the Syrens' you bear on your wings?"

Said Zephyr, and whisper'd distinctly the lays, "'Tis Belinda that sings, and Belinda that plays."

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S

LUCR.

As 'midst the stars the cheering lamp of light,
In Heav'n's high concave eminently bright,
First tips the mountains with a golden ray,
Then gradual streams effulgency of day,
Till more serenely, with a mild decline,
Regretted sinks, in other worlds to shine: "
Thus from the world, an age of honour past,
Pride of the present, glory of the last,
Retir'd great Uxbridge to the blest abode,

To live for ever with the saints of God;

There in celestial lustre to appear,

And share the wages of his labours here.

When the last trump shall rouse the dead that

sleep

Entomb'd in earth, or buried in the deep;
When worlds dissolving on that awful day,
And all the elements shall melt away;
When every word shall be in judgment brought,
Weigh'd every action, canvass'd every thought,
Then shall thy alms in sweet memorial rise,
More grateful than the incens'd sacrifice:
The gladden'd widow's blessing shall be heard,
And prayers in fervency of soul preferr'd.
The Lord shall bless thee, and well pleas'd sur-
The tears of orphans' wip'd by thee away.
What! but a virtue resolutely just,
Firm to its purpose, steady to its trust,

[vey

'His lordship gave 2000 1. to the Foundling Hospital; 1000 I. to St. George's, Hyde-Park Corner; and near another 1000 1. to the neighbouring parishes where he lived.

VOL. XVI.

The full persuasion, and the true delight
Of having acted by the rules of right,
Could to thy soul a conscious calm impart,
When Death severe approach'd, and shook his
dreadful dart,

'Twas this thy faith confirm'd, thy joy refin'd,
And spoke sweet solace to thy troubled mind;
This turn'd to silent peace each rising dread,
And sooth'd the terrours of the dying bed.

May we like thee in piety excel, Believe as stedfastly, and act as well ; Cleave to the good and from the bad depart, And wear the scriptures written in our heart; Then shall we live, like thee, serenely gay, And every moment calmly pass away: And when this transitory life is o'er, And all these earthly vanities no more, Shall go where perfect peace is only found, And streams of pleasure flow, an everlasting round.

September 3, 1743.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE COUNTESS OF UXBRIDGE,

OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF THE EARL, HER
HUSBAND.

CEASE, cease illustrious partner of his bed,
O! cease the tributary tear to shed:
Mourn not for him whom God has given to die
From earthly vanities to heavenly joy;
These are the greatest honours we can give,
To mark his ways, and as he liv'd to live.
Still bloom in goodness as you bloom'd before;
Heaven asks but this, and saints can do no more:
Exert each virtue of the Christian mind,
And still continue friend of human kind.
Be this your chief delight, for 'tis the best,
With ready alms to succour the distress'd;
To clothe the naked and the hungry feed,
Nor pass a day without some gracious deed.
These acts are grateful to Jehovah's eye,
For these the poor shall bless you ere they die :
These hide aur sins, these purchase solid gain,
And these shall bring you to your Lord again.
September 6, 1743.

TO LAURA, 1742.
Wishes which Laura may with safety hear.
WITH generous wishes let me greet your ear,

May all the blessings to your portion fall,
The wise can want, for you deserve them all:
Soft joy; sweet ease, and ever-blooming health,
Calmness of mind, and competence of wealth;
Whate'er th' Almighty Father can bestow,
To crown the happiness of man below,
And when with all those virtues, all those charms,
You deign to bless some happy husband's arms;

It is remarkable that his lordship could repeat, memoriter, all the Gospels, the Psalms, and other considerable parts of the Old and New Testament.

R

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