When pleas'd, in many a sportive ring,
Around the room I jovial rode :

Ev'n let me bid my lyre adieu,
And bring the whistle that I blew.

IX.

Then will I muse, and penfive fay,
Why did not these enjoyments laft?
How sweetly wafted I the day,

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

The Princess ELIZABETH:

A Ballad, alluding to a Story recorded of her, when she was a Prisoner at Woodstock, 1554.

WILL

By the Same.

ILL you hear how once repining
Great Eliza captive lay,

Each ambitious thought refigning,

Foe to riches, pomp, and sway?

VOL. IV.

A a

While

While the nymphs and swains delighted

Tript around in all their pride; Envying joys by others flighted, Thus the royal maiden cry'd.

Bred on plains, or born in vallies,
Who would bid those scenes adieu?

Stranger to the arts of malice,

Who would ever courts pursue ?

Malice never taught to treasure,
Cenfure never taught to bear;
Love is all the fhepherd's pleasure;
Love is all the damfel's care.

How can they of humble ftation

Vainly blame the pow'rs above?

Or accufe the dispensation

Which allows them all to love?

Love like air is widely given;

Pow'r nor chance can these restrain;

Trueft, nobleft gifts of heaven!

Only pureft on the plain!

Peers

Peers can no fuch charms discover,
All in ftars and garters drest,
As, on Sundays, does the lover
With his nosegay on his breast,

Pinks and roses in profufion,

Said to fade when Chloe's near; Fops may use the fame allufion, But the fhepherd is fincere.

Hark to yonder milk-maid finging
Cheerly o'er the brimming pail,
Cowflips all around her springing,
Sweetly paint the golden vale,

Never yet did courtly maiden
Move so sprightly, look so fair;

Never breast with jewels laden
Pour a fong fo void of care.

Would indulgent heav'n had granted
Me fome rural damfel's part!

All the empire I had wanted

Then had been my fhepherd's heart,

Then, with him, o'er hills and mountains,
Free from fetters, might I rove:

Fearless taste the crystal fountains ;

Peaceful fleep beneath the grove.

Ruftics had been more forgiving;
Partial to my virgin bloom:
None had envy'd me when living;

None had triumph'd o'er my tomb.

XXXX

XX*XXXXXXXXXXXX

ODE to a Young Lady,

Somewhat too follicitous about her manner of Expreffion.

By the Same.

RVEY, my fair! that lucid ftream

SUR

Adown the smiling valley ftray;

Would art attempt, or fancy dream,
To regulate its winding way?

So pleas'd I view thy fhining hair
In loose difhevell'd ringlets flow:
Not all thy art, nor all thy care
Can there one fingle grace beftow.

Survey

Survey again that verdant hill,

With native plants enamell'd o'er; Say, can the painter's utmost skill

Inftruct one flow'r to please us more?

As vain it were, with artful dye,

To change the bloom thy cheeks disclose, And oh may Laura, ere she try,

With fresh vermilion paint the rofe.

Hark, how the wood-lark's tuneful throat
Can every study'd grace excel;

Let art constrain the rambling note,
And will fhe, Laura, please fo well?

Oh ever keep thy native ease,
By no pedantic laws confin'd!

For Laura's voice is form'd to please,
So Laura's words be not unkind.