A SONNE T; written at W

WT

in the Absence of -.

By the Same.

DE

DE, thy beechen flopes with waving grain Border'd, thine azure views of wood and lawn, Whilom could charm, or when the joyous Dawn 'Gan Night's dun robe with flushing purple stain, Or Evening drove to fold her woolly train;

Her fairest landscapes whence my Muse has drawn, Too free with fervile courtly phrafe to fawn, Too weak to try the Bufkin's stately strain;

Yet now no more thy flopes of beech and corn Nor profpects charm, fince He far-distant strays With whom I trac'd their sweets each eve and morn, From Albion far, to cull Hefperian bays;

In this alone they please, howe'er forlorn, That still they can recall thofe happier days.

****

On BATHING.

A SONNET.

By the Same.

WHEN late the trees were stript by Winter pale,

Fair HEALTH, a Dryad-maid in vefture green, Rejoyc'd to rove 'mid the bleak fylvan scene, On airy uplands caught the fragrant gale, And ere fresh morn the low-couch'd lark did hail Watching the found of earliest horn was seen. But fince gay Summer, thron'd in chariot fheen, Is come to fcorch each primrose sprinkled dale, She chooses that delightful cave beneath

The cryftal treasures of meek Ifis' ftream; And now all glad the temperate air to breathe, While cooling drops diftil from arches dim, Binding her dewy locks with fedgy wreath

She fits amid the quire of Naiads trim.

To

To Lady H-Y. By Mr. de VOLTAIRE.

H

--Y

Y would you know the paffion

You have kindled in

Trifling is the inclination

my breast,

That by words can be exprefs'd.

In my filence fee the lover,

True love is by filence known;
In my eyes you'll best discover
All the power of your own.

On Sir ROBERT WALPOLE's Birth-day,

A

AUGUST the 26th.

By the Honourable Mr. D- -TON.

LL hail, aufpicious day, whose wish'd return

Bids every breaft with grateful ardor burn,
While pleas'd Britannia that great man furveys
The Prince may truft, and yet the People praise:
One bearing greatest toils with greatest ease,
One born to ferve us, and yet born to please;

His foul capacious, yet his judgment clear,

His
tongue is flowing, and his heart fincere :
His counfels guide, his temper cheers our isle,
And smiling gives three kingdoms cause to smile.
Auguft, how bright thy golden fcenes appear,
Thou faireft daughter of the various year,
On thee the fun with all his ardor glows,
On thee in dowry all its fruits bestows,

The greatest Prince, the foremost son of fame,
To thee bequeath'd the glories of his name;
Nature and Fortune thee their darling chofe,
Nor could they grace thee more, 'till Walpole rose.
By steps to mighty things Fate makes her way,
The fun and Cæfar but prepar'd this day.

ttttttt

ttttttt

The Lawyer's Farewell to his Mufe.

Written in the Year 1744.

S, by fome tyrant's ftern command,

A wretch forfakes his native land,
In foreign climes condemn'd to roam

An endless exile from his home;

Penfive

Penfive he treads the deftin'd way,

And dreads to go, nor dares to ftay;
'Till on fome neighb'ring mountain's brow
He stops, and turns his
eyes below;

There, melting at the well-known view,
Drops a laft tear, and bids adieu :
So I, thus doom'd from thee to part,
Gay queen of Fancy and of Art,
Reluctant move, with doubtful mind,
Oft stop, and often look behind.
Companion of my tender age,

Serenely gay, and sweetly fage,
How blithfome were we wont to rove
By verdant hill, or shady grove,

Where fervent bees, with humming voice,
Around the honey'd oak rejoice,
And aged elms with aweful bend
In long cathedral walks extend!
Lull'd by the lapfe of gliding floods,
Cheer'd by the warbling of the woods,
How bleft my days, my thoughts how free,
In sweet society with thee!

Then all was joyous, all was young,

And years unheeded roll'd along :

But