With wary spaniels furrow'd fields beset, morn. But lo! faint Phœbus darts a languid ray, 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; Bnt 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 purp'e 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 green; Poplars and alders ever quivering play'd, And nodding cypress form'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 The grott, divided into various cells, O'er amaranthine beds fair fountains stray'd, Calypso's grotto crown'd the breezy steep, Among the banks the sportive waters play'd, away. The distant mountains their hoar heads on high With vines that hung in many a fair festoon; And seem'd to make a new Elysium here. Ye sons of harmony, prepare Hark! the mighty queen of sound The merry pipe, the mellow-breathing lute, With manly notes our hearts inspire, While the majestic, deep-mouth'd organs blow Like the last murmurs of the breeze, And at the close of each mellifluous lay, Happy they as gods above Whom Hymen binds in wreaths of love! And show'rs down blessings on the great, RECITATIVE. Bat, lo! sweet Emily, the fair, Pair, sweet, and bright as all the flowers of May. And as, intent upon her charms, While thus, methinks, I hear him say, 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 Nor anxious murmur hover there; prove The height of endless happiness and love. THE DEATH OF THE LARK. 1738. THE golden Sun, emerging from the main, renew, A breathing fragrance, or a lovely hue: Or calls his mate, and as he sweetly sings, Swift in hoarse thunder flies the leaden wound, 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. Now sit exalted in those realms of rest As some sweet rose-bud, that has just begun Sunk, sweetly smiling, in the arms of death; 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 sip', 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. SHORT and precarious is the life of man; 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 murmur 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 himself content. Though no proud columns grace his marble hall, Nor Claude nor Guido animate the wall; Biest who with sweet security can find, In health of body, and in peace of mind, His easy 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 away, And the brief roses of the face decay. O! would propitious Heav'n fulfil my prayer, (The bliss of man is Providence's care) Such be the tranquil tenour of my life, And such the virtues of my future wife; With her in calm, domestic leisure free, Let me possess serene obscurity; In acts of meek benevolence delight, And to the widow recompense her mite. Thus far from the crowds,not thoughtless of my With reading, musing, writing, and a friend, [end, 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." Ah! swains, if you value your freedom, be ware, [fair; You hear her sweet voice, and I know that she's She's fair and inconstant; and thus with her art, She will ravish your ears to inveigle your heart. ON THE DEATH OF THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF UXBRIDGE. Obiit 30° Aug. A. D. 1743. Ætat. 83. Quem tu, Dea, tempore in omni Omnibus ornatum voluisti excellere rebus. LUCR. As 'midst the stars the cheering lamp of light, When the last trump shall rouse the dead that sleep Entomb'd in earth, or buried in the deep; Firm to its purpose, steady to its trust, The full persuasion, and the true delight 'Twas this thy faith confirm'd, thy joy refin'd, 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. 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 saiuts 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 our sins, these purchase solid gain, And these shall bring you to your Lord again. September 6, 1743. . May he in every manly grace excel, To kindness fashion'd, with mild temper fraught, SONG TO LAURA, ABSENT. COME, Laura, joy of rural swains, Come, lovely Laura, haste away, A NOSEGAY FOR LAURA. COME, ye fair, ambrosial flowers, Fair, and bright, and blooming he, Add no more; already h TO LAURA, ABSENT. November 1745. If you ever heard my prayer, Lo! tempestuous winter near The sweet tenants of the grove Hark! I hear a sound from far, All was peace when you was here. WHILE rosy health abounds in every breeze, Smiles in the flowers, and blossoms in the trees, Matures the fields, and in the fountain flows, Breathes through all life, and in all nature glows; Why droops Aurelius by sharp pains opprest, And British heroes perish'd in the flood: I see, I sce conspicious how you stood, |