None, to a virgin's mind, prefer'd her dower;
To fire with vicious hopes a modest heir:
The fire, in place of titles, wealth, or power,
Affign'd him virtue; and his lot was fair.
They spoke of fortune, as fome doubtful dame,
That fway'd the natives of a diftant sphere;
From lucre's vagrant fons had learnt her fame,
But never wish'd to place her banners here.
Here youth's free fpirit, innocently gay,

Enjoy'd the most that innocence can give,
Thofe wholefome fweets that border virtue's way;
Thofe cooling fruits, that we may taste and live.
Their board no strange ambiguous viand bore;
From their own ftreams their choicer fare they drew,
To lure the fcaly glutton to the fhore,

The fole deceit their artlefs bofom knew!

Sincere themselves, ah too fecure to find

The common bofom, like their own, fincere! 'Tis its own guilt alarms the jealous mind; 'Tis her own poifon bids the viper fear.

Sketch'd on the lattice of th' adjacent fane,

Their fuppliant bufts implore the reader's prayer;

Ah gentle fouls! enjoy your blissful reign,

And let frail mortals claim your guardian care. For fure, to blifsful realms the fouls are flown, That never flatter'd, injur'd, cenfur'd, strove; The friends of fcience! mufic, all their own; Mufic the voice of virtue and of love!

The

The journeying peasant, through the fecret fhade,
Heard their foft lyres engage his listening ear;
And haply deem'd fome courteous angel play'd;
No angel play'd—but might with transport hear.
For thefe the founds that chafe unholy ftrife!
Solve envy's charm, ambition's wretch release!
Raife him to spurn the radiant ills of life:
To pity pomp, to be content with peace.
Farewel, pure fpirits! vain the praise we give,
The praife you fought from lips angelic flows;
Farewel! the virtues which deserve to live,
Deferve an ampler blifs than life beftows.
Laft of his race, Palemon, now no more
The modeft merit of his line display'd;
Then pious Hugh Vigornia's mitre wore-
Soft fleep the duft of each deferving shade!

He fuggefts the advantages of birth to a perfon of merit, and the folly of a fupercilioufnefs that is built upon that fole foundation.

WHEN genius grac'd with lineal fplendor glows,

When title fhines with ambient virtues crown'd, Like fome fair almond's flowery pomp it fhews; The pride, the perfume of the regions round.

Then

Then learn, ye fair! to foften fplendor's ray;
Endure the fwain, the youth of low degree;
Let meeknefs join'd its temperate beam difplay;
'Tis the mild verdure that endears the tree.
Pity the fandal'd fwain, the shepherd's boy;
He fighs to brighten a neglected name;
Foe to the dull appulfe of vulgar joy,

He mourns his lot; he wishes, merits fame.
In vain to groves and pathless vales we fly;
.. Ambition there the bowery haunt invades ;
Fame's awful rays fatigue the courtier's eye,

But gleam still lovely through the checquer'd shades. Vainly, to guard from love's unequal chain,

Has fortune rear'd us in the rural grove; Should ****'s eyes illume the defart plain, Ev'n I may wonder, and ev'n I must love. Nor unregarded fighs the lowly hind;

Though you contemn, the gods respect his vow;
Vindictive rage awaits the fcornful mind,
And vengeance, too fevere! the gods allow.

On Sarum's plain I met a wandering fair;
The look of forrow, lovely still she bore :
Loofe flow'd the foft redundance of her hair,
And, on her brow, a flowery wreath she wore.
Oft stooping as she stray'd, she cull'd the pride
Of every plain; she pillag'd every grove!
The fading chaplet daily fhe fupply'd,

And still her hand fome varicus garland wove.

Erro

Erroneous fancy fhap'd her wild attire;
From Bethlem's walls the poor lymphatic stray'd;
Seem'd with her air her accent to confpire,

When, as wild fancy taught her, thus she said :
"Hear me, dear youth! oh hear an-hapless maid,
Sprung from the fcepter'd line of ancient kings!
Scorn'd by the world, I afk thy tender aid;
Thy gentle voice fhall whisper kinder things.
The world is frantic-fly the race profane-
Nor I, nor you, fhall its compaffion move;
Come friendly let us wander, and complain,
And tell me, fhepherd! haft thou feen my
My love is young-but other loves are young;
And other loves are fair, and fo is mine;
An air divine difclofes whence he fprung;
He is my love, who boafts that air divine.
No vulgar Damon robs me of my rest,
Ianthe liftens to no vulgar vow ;.

love?

A prince, from gods defcended, fires her breast;
A brilliant crown diftinguishes his brow.

What, shall Istain the glories of my race?

More clear, more lovely bright than Hefper's beam? The porcelain pure with vulgar dirt debafe? Or mix with puddle the pellucid stream?

See through thefe veins the fapphire current shine! 'Twas Jove's own nectar gave th' etherial hue: Can bafe plebeian forms contend with mine! Difplay the lovely white, or match the blue?

The

The painter ftrove to trace its azure ray;

He chang'd his colours, and in vain he strove; He frown'd-I fimiling view'd the faint essay ;

Poor youth! he little knew it flow'd from Jove. Pitying his toil, the wondrous truth I told;

How amorous Jove trepann'd a mortal fair; How through the race the generous current roll'd, And mocks the poet's art, and painter's care.

Yes, from the gods, from earliest Saturn, fprung Our facred race; through demigods, convey'd; And he, ally'd to Phoebus, ever young,

My god-like boy, muft wed their duteous maid. Oft when a mortal vow profanes my ears,

My fire's dread fury murmurs through the sky; And should I yield-his instant rage appears, He darts th' up-lifted vengeance-and I die. Have you not heard unwonted thunders roll! Have you not seen more horrid lightnings glare! 'Twas then a vulgar love enfiar'd my foul:

'Twas then-I hardly scap'd the fatal snare. 'Twas then a peasant pour'd his amorous vow, All as I liften'd to his vulgar strain ;Yet fuch his beauty-would my birth allow, Dear were the youth, and blissful were the plain. But oh! I faint! why waftes my vernal bloom, In fruitlefs fearches ever doom'd to rove? My nightly dreams the toilfome path refume, And I fhall die-before I find my love.